Ex  LIBRIS 
H.CLAIK  C 


HAROLD 

THE   LAST  OF  THE 
SAXON   KINGS 


Attest  the  betrothal  of  these  young  hearts,  O  ye  Powers." 


HAROLD 

THE   LAST  OF  THE 
SAXON   KINGS 

By 
EDWARD   BULWER   LYTTON 


Illustrated  by 
MAX   R.   MORTON 


VOLUME   I 


Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
New  York  J904 


1^/p 
</?/* 

/?*v 

v,  / 


COPYRIGHT,  1902,  BY 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS. 


DEDICATORY   EPISTLE 

TO 

THE  RIGHT  HON.  C.  T.  D'EYNCOURT,  M.P. 

I  dedicate  to  you,  my  dear  friend,  a  work,  princi- 
pally composed  under  your  hospitable  roof;  and  to 
the  materials  of  which  your  library,  rich  in  the  authori- 
ties I  most  needed,  largely  contributed. 

The  idea  of  founding  an  historical  romance  on  an 
event  so  important  and  so  national  as  the  Norman  In- 
vasion, I  had  long  entertained,  and  the  chronicles  of 
that  time  had  long  been  familiar  to  me.  But  it  is  an 
old  habit  of  mine,  to  linger  over  the  plan  and  subject 
of  a  work,  for  years,  perhaps,  before  the  work  has,  in 
truth,  advanced  a  sentence ;  "  busying  myself,"  as  old 
Burton  saith,  "  with  this  playing  labour — otiosdque 
diligentid  ut  vitarem  torporcm  fcriandi." 

The  main  consideration  which  long  withheld  me 
from  the  task,  was  in  my  sense  of  the  unfamiliarity  of 
the  ordinary  reader  with  the  characters,  events,  and,  so 
to  speak,  with  the  very  physiognomy  of  a  period  ante 
Agamemnona;  before  the  brilliant  age  of  matured  chiv- 
alry, which  has  given  to  song  and  romance  the  deeds 
of  the  later  knighthood,  and  the  glorious  frenzy  of  the 
Crusades.  The  Norman  Conquest  was  our  Trojan 
War;  an  epoch  beyond  which  our  learning  seldom  in- 
duces our  imagination  to  ascend. 

In  venturing  on  ground  so  new  to  fiction,  I  saw 
before  me  the  option  of  apparent  pedantry,  in  the  ob- 
trusion of  such  research  as  might  carry  the  reader 
along  with  the  Author,  fairly  and  truly  into  the  real 
records  of  the  time ;  or  of  throwing  aside  pretensions 
to  accuracy  altogether ; — and  so  rest  contented  to  turn 
history  into  flagrant  romance,  rather  than  pursue  my 
own  conception  of  extracting  its  natural  romance  from 


vi  DEDICATORY   EPISTLE 

the  actual  history.  Finally,  not  without  some  encour- 
agement from  you,  (whereof  take  your  due  share  of 
blame!)  I  decided  to  hazard  the  attempt,  and  to  adopt 
that  mode  of  treatment  which,  if  making  larger  de- 
mand on  the  attention  of  the  reader,  seemed  the  more 
complimentary  to  his  judgment. 

The  age  itself,  once  duly  examined,  is  full  of  those 
elements  which  should  awaken  interest,  and  appeal  to 
the  imagination.  Not  untruly  has  Sismondi  said,  that 
the  "  Eleventh  Century  has  a  right  to  be  considered  a 
great  age.  It  was  a  period  of  life  and  of  creation ;  all 
that  there  was  of  noble,  heroic,  and  vigorous  in  the 
Middle  Ages  commenced  at  that  epoch."  x  But  to  us 
Englishmen  in  especial,  besides  the  more  animated  in- 
terest in  that  spirit  of  adventure,  enterprise,  and  im- 
provement, of  which  the  Norman  chivalry  was  the 
noblest  type,  there  is  an  interest  more  touching  and 
deep  in  those  last  glimpses  of  the  old  Saxon  mon- 
archy, which  open  upon  us  in  the  mournful  pages  of 
our  chroniclers. 

I  have  sought  in  this  work,  less  to  portray  mere 
manners,  which  modern  researches  have  rendered  fa- 
miliar to  ordinary  students  in  our  history,  than  to 
bring  forward  the  great  characters,  so  carelessly  dis- 
missed in  the  long  and  loose  record  of  centuries;  to 
show  more  clearly  the  motives  and  policy  of  the  agents 
in  an  event  the  most  memorable  in  Europe ;  and  to  con- 
vey a  definite,  if  general,  notion  of  the  human  beings, 
whose  brains  schemed,  and  whose  hearts  beat,  in  that 
realm  of  shadows  which  lies  behind  the  Norman  Con- 
quest ; 

"  Spes  hominum  caecos,  morbos,  votunique,  labores, 
Et  passim  toto  volitantes  aethere  curas."  2 

I  have  thus  been  faithful  to  the  leading  historical 
incidents  in  the  grand  tragedy  of  Harold,  and  as  care- 
ful as  contradictory  evidences  will  permit,  both  as  to 
accuracy  in  the  delineation  of  character,  and  correct- 

1  Sismondi's  History  of  France,  vol.  iv.  p.  484. 

2  "  Men's  blinded  hopes,  diseases,  toil,  and  prayer, 

And  winged  troubles  peopling  daily  air." 


DEDICATORY   EPISTLE  vii 

ness  in  that  chronological  chain  of  dates  without 
which  there  can  be  no  historical  philosophy ;  that  is, 
no  tangible  link  between  the  cause  and  the  effect.  The 
fictitious  part  of  my  narrative  is,  as  in  "  Rienzi,"  and 
the  "  Last  of  the  Barons,"  confined  chiefly  to  the  pri- 
vate life,  with  its  domain  of  incident  and  passion, 
which  is  the  legitimate  appanage  of  novelist  or  poet. 
The  love  story  of  Harold  and  Edith  is  told  differently 
from  the  well-known  legend,  which  implies  a  less  pure 
connection.  But  the  whole  legend  respecting  the 
Edcva  faira  (Edith  the  fair)  whose  name  meets  us  in 
the  "  Domesday  "  roll,  rests  upon  very  slight  authority 
considering  its  popular  acceptance ; 1  and  the  reasons 
for  my  alterations  will  be  sufficiently  obvious  -in  a  work 
intended  not  only  for  general  perusal,  but  which  on 
many  accounts,  I  hope,  may  be  entrusted  fearlessly  to 
the  young ;  while  those  alterations  are  in  strict  accord- 
ance with  the  spirit  of  the  time,  and  tend  to  illustrate 
one  of  its  most  marked  peculiarities. 

More  apology  is  perhaps  due  for  the  liberal  use  to 
which  I  have  applied  the  superstitions  of  the  age.  But 
with  the  age  itself  those  superstitions  are  so  inter- 
woven— they  meet  us  so  constantly,  whether  in  the 
pages  of  our  own  croniclers,  or  the  records  of  the  kin- 
dred Scandinavians — they  are  so  intruded  into  the 
very  laws,  so  blended  with  the  very  life,  of  our  Saxon 
forefathers,  that  without  employing  them,  in  somewhat 
of  the  same  credulous  spirit  with  which  they  were 
originally  conceived,  no  vivid  impression  of  the  Peo- 

1  Merely  upon  the  obscure  MS.  of  the  Waltham  Monastery; 
yet,  such  is  the  ignorance  of  popular  criticism,  that  I  have 
been  as  much  attacked  for  the  license  I  have  taken  with  the 
legendary  connection  between  Harold  and  Edith,  as  if  that 
connection  were  a  proven  and  authenticated  fact !  Again,  the 
pure  attachment  to  which,  in  the  romance,  the  loves  of  Edith 
and  Harold  are  confined,  has  been  alleged  to  be  a  sort  of  moral 
anachronism, — a  sentiment  wholly  modern ;  whereas,  on  the 
contrary,  an  attachment  so  pure  was  infinitely  more  common 
in  that  day  than  in  this,  and  made  one  of  the  most  striking 
characteristics  of  the  eleventh  century;  indeed  of  all  the 
earlier  ages,  in  the  Christian  era,  most  subjected  to  monastic 
influences. 


viii  DEDICATORY   EPISTLE 

pie  they  influenced  can  be  conveyed.  Not  without  truth 
has  an  Italian  writer  remarked,  "  that  he  who  would 
depict  philosophically  an  unphilosophical  age,  should 
remember  that,  to  be  familiar  with  children,  one  must 
sometimes  think  and  feel  as  a  child." 

Yet  it  has  not  been  my  main  endeavour  to  make 
these  ghostly  agencies  conducive  to  the  ordinary  poeti- 
cal purposes  of  terror,  and  if  that  effect  be  at  all  created 
by  them,  it  will  be,  I  apprehend,  rather  subsidiary  to 
the  more  historical  sources  of  interest  than,  in  itself,  a 
leading  or  popular  characteristic  of  the  work.  My  ob- 
ject, indeed,  in  the  introduction  of  the  Danish  Vala  es- 
pecially, has  been  perhaps  as  much  addressed  to  the 
reason  as  to  the  fancy,  in  showing  what  large,  if  dim, 
remains  of  the  ancient  "  heathenesse  "  still  kept  their 
ground  on  the  Saxon  soil,  contending  with  and  con- 
trasting the  monkish  superstitions,  by  which  they  were 
ultimately  replaced.  Hilda  is  not  in  history ;  but  with- 
out the  romantic  impersonation  of  that  which  Hilda 
represents,  the  history  of  the  time  would  be  imperfectly 
understood. 

In  the  character  of  Harold — while  I  have  carefully 
examined  and  weighed  the  scanty  evidences  of  its  dis- 
tinguishing attributes  which  are  yet  preserved  to  us — 
and,  in  spite  of  no  unnatural  partiality,  have  not  con- 
cealed what  appear  to  me  its  deficiences,  and  still  less 
the  great  error  of  the  life  it  illustrates, — I  have  at- 
tempted, somewhat  and  slightly,  to  shadow  out  the 
ideal  of  the  pure  Saxon  character,  such  as  it  was  then, 
with  its  large  qualities  undeveloped,  but  marked  al- 
ready by  patient  endurance,  love  of  justice,  and  free- 
dom— the  manly  sense  of  duty  rather  than  the  chivalric 
sentiment  of  honour — and  that  indestructible  element 
of  practical  purpose  and  courageous  will,  which,  de- 
fying all  conquest,  and  steadfast  in  all  peril,  was  or- 
dained to  achieve  so  vast  an  influence  over  the  destinies 
of  the  world. 

To  the  Norman  Duke,  I  believe,  I  have  been  as 
lenient  as  justice  will  permit,  though  it  is  as  impossible 
to  deny  h-is  craft  as  to  dispute  his  genius ;  and  so  far  as 
the  scope  of  my  work  would  allow,  I  trust  that  I  have 


DEDICATORY   EPISTLE  ix 

indicated  fairly  the  grand  characteristics  of  his  coun- 
trymen, more  truly  chivalric  than  their  lord.  It  has 
happened,  unfortunately  for  that  illustrious  race  of 
men,  that  they  have  seemed  to  us,  in  England,  repre- 
sented by  the  Anglo-Norman  kings.  The  fierce  and 
plotting  William,  the  vain  and  worthless  Rufus,  the 
cold-blooded  and  relentless  Henry,  are  no  adequate 
representatives  of  the  far  nobler  Norman  vavasours, 
whom  even  the  English  Chronicler  admits  to  have  been 
"  kind  masters,"  and  to  whom,  in  spite  of  their  kings, 
the  after  liberties  of  England  were  so  largely  indebted. 
But  this  work  closes  on  the  Field  of  Hastings ;  and  in 
that  noble  struggle  for  national  independence,  the  sym- 
pathies of  every  true  son  of  the  land,  even  if  tracing 
his  lineage  back  to  the  Norman  victor,  must  be  on  the 
side  of  the  patriot  Harold. 

In  the  notes,  which  I  have  thought  necessary  aids  to 
the  better  comprehension  of  these  volumes,  my  only 
wish  has  been  to  convey  to  the  general  reader  such 
illustrative  information  as  may  familiarise  him  more 
easily  with  the  subject-matter  of  the  book,  or  refresh 
his  memory  on  incidental  details  not  without  a  na- 
tional interest.  In  the  mere  references  to  authorities  I 
do  not  pretend  to  arrogate  to  a  fiction  the  proper  char- 
acter of  a  history;  the  references  are  chiefly  used  either 
where  wishing  pointedly  to  distinguish  from  invention 
what  was  borrowed  from  a  chronicle,  or  when  differ- 
ing from  some  popular  historian  to  whom  the  reader- 
might  be  likely  to  refer,  it  seemed  well  to  state  the 
authority  upon  which  the  difference  was  founded.1 

In  fact,  my  main  object  has  been  one  that  compelled 
me  to  admit  graver  matter  than  is  common  in  romance, 
but  which  I  would  fain  hope  may  be  saved  from  the 
charge  of  dulness  by  some  national  sympathy  between 
author  and  reader;  my  object  is  attained,  and  attained 
only,  if,  in  closing  the  last  page  of  this  work,  the 
reader  shall  find  that,  in  spite  of  the  fictitious  materials 
admitted,  he  has  formed  a  clearer  and  more  intimate 

1  Notes  less  immediately  necessary  to  the  context,  or  too 
long  not  to  interfere  with  the  current  of  the  narrative,  are 
thrown  to  the  end  of  the  work. 


x  DEDICATORY   EPISTLE 

acquaintance  with  a  time,  heroic  though  remote,  and 
characters  which  ought  to  have  a  household  interest  to 
Englishmen,  than  the  succinct  accounts  of  the  mere 
historian  could  possibly  afford  him. 

Thus,  my  dear  D'Evncourt,  under  cover  of  an  ad- 
dress to  yourself,  have  I  made  to  the  Public  those  ex- 
planations which  authors  in  general  (and  I  not  the 
least  so)  are  often  overanxious  to  render. 

This  task  done,  my  thoughts  naturally  fly  back  to 
the  associations  I  connected  with  your  name  when  I 
placed  it  at  the  head  of  this  epistle.  Again  I  seem  to 
find  myself  under  your  friendly  roof;  again  to  greet 
my  provident  host  entering  that  gothic  chamber  in 
which  I  had  been  permitted  to  establish  my  unsocial 
study,  heralding  the  advent  of  majestic  folios,  and 
heaping  libraries  round  the  unworthy  work.  Again, 
pausing  from  my  labour,  I  look  through  that  castle 
casement,  and  beyond  that  feudal  moat,  over  the  broad 
landscapes  which,  if  I  err  not,  took  their  name  from 
the  proud  brother  of  the  Conqueror  himself ;  or  when, 
in  those  winter  nights,  the  grim  old  tapestry  waved 
in  the  dim  recesses,  I  hear  again  the  Saxon  thegn 
winding  his  horn  at  the  turret  door,  and  demanding 
admittance  to  the  halls  from  which  the  prelate  of 
Bayeux  had  so  unrighteously  expelled  him x — what 
marvel,  that  I  lived  in  the  times  of  which  I  wrote, 
Saxon  with  the  Saxon,  Norman  with  the  Norman — 
that  I  entered  into  no  gossip  less  venerable  than  that 
current  at  the  Court  of  the  Confessor,  or  startled  my 
fellow-guests  (when  I  deigned  to  meet  them)  with 
the  last  news  which  Harold's  spies  had  brought  over 
from  the  Camp  at  St.  Valery?  With  all  those  folios, 
giants  of  the  gone  world,  rising  around  me  daily,  more 
and  more,  higher  and  higher — Ossa  upon  Pelion — on 
chair  and  table,  hearth  and  floor ;  invasive  as  Normans, 
indomitable  as  Saxons,  and  tall  as  the  tallest  Danes 
(ruthless  host,  I  behold  them  still!) — with  all  thos? 
disburied  spectres  rampant  in  the  chamber,  all  the 

1  There  is  a  legend  attached  to  my  friend's  house,  that  on 
certain  nights  in  the  year,  Eric  the  Saxon  winds  his  horn  at 
the  door,  and,  in  forma  spectri,  serves  his  notice  of  ejectment. 


DEDICATORY   EPISTLE  xi 

armour  rusting  in  thy  galleries,  all  those  mutilated 
statues  of  early  English  kings  (including  St.  Edward, 
himself) — niched  into  thy  grey,  ivied  walls — say  in  thy 
conscience,  O  host,  (if  indeed  that  conscience  be  not 
wholly  callous!)  shall  I  ever  return  to  the  nineteenth 
century  again? 

But  far  beyond  these  recent  associations  of  a  single 
winter  (for  which  heaven  assoil  thee!)  goes  the  mem- 
ory of  a  friendship  of  many  winters,  and  proof  to  the 
storms  of  all.  Often  have  I  come  for  advice  to  your 
wisdom,  and  sympathy  to  your  heart,  bearing  back 
with  me,  in  all  such  seasons,  new  increase  to  that 
pleasurable  gratitude  which  is,  perhaps,  the  rarest,  nor 
the  least  happy  sentiment,  that  experience  leaves  to 
man.  Some  differences,  it  may  be, — whether  on  those 
public  questions  which  we  see,  every  day,  alienating 
friendships  that  should  have  been  beyond  the  reach  of 
laws  and  kings ; — or  on  the  more  scholastic  contro- 
versies which  as  keenly  interest  the  minds  of  educated 
men, — may  at  times  deny  to  us  the  idem  vcllc,  atquc  idem 
nolle;  but  the  firma  amicitia  needs  not  those  common 
links;  the  sunshine  does  not  leave  the  wave  for  the 
slight  ripple  which  the  casual  stone  brings  a  moment 
to  the  surface. 

Accept,  in  this  dedication  of  a  work  which  has  lain 
so  long  on  my  mind,  and  been  endeared  to  me  from 
many  causes,  the  token  of  an  affection  for  you  and 
yours,  strong  as  the  ties  of  kindred,  and  lasting  as  the 
belief  in  truth. 

E.  B.  L. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  THIRD  EDITION 


The  author  of  an  able  and  learned  article  on 
MABILLON  1  in  the  "  Edinburgh  Review,"  has  accu- 
rately described  my  aim  in  this  work;  although,  with 
that  generous  courtesy  which  characterises  the  true 
scholar,  in  referring  to  the  labours  of  a  contemporary, 
he  has  overrated  my  success.  It  was  indeed  my  aim 
"  to  solve  the  problem  how  to  produce  the  greatest 
amount  of  dramatic  effect  at  the  least  expense  of  his- 
torical truth  " — I  borrow  the  words  of  the  Reviewer, 
since  none  other  could  so  tersely  express  my  design, 
or  so  clearly  account  for  the  leading  characteristics  in 
its  conduct  and  completion. 

There  are  two  ways  of  employing  the  materials  of 
History  in  the  service  of  Romance :  the  one  consists  in 
lending  to  ideal  personages,  and  to  an  imaginary  fable, 
the  additional  interest  to  be  derived  from  historical 
groupings:  the  other,  in  extracting  the  main  interest 
of  romantic  narrative  from  History  itself.  Those  who 
adopt  the  former  mode  are  at  liberty  to  exclude  all  that 
does  not  contribute  to  theatrical  effect  or  picturesque 
composition ;  their  fidelity  to  the  period  they  select  is 
towards  the  manners  and  costume,  not  towards  the 
precise  order  of  events,  the  moral  causes  from  which 
the  events  proceeded,  and  the  physical  agencies  by 
which  they  were  influenced  and  controlled.  The  plan 
thus  adopted  is  unquestionably  the  more  popular  and 
attractive,  and,  being  favoured  by  the  most  illustrious 
writers  of  historical  romance,  there  is  presumptive  rea- 
son for  supposing  it  to  be  also  that  which  is  the  more 
agreeable  to  the  art  of  fiction. 

1  The  "  Edinburgh  Review,"  No.  CLXXIX.  January,  1849. 
Art.  I.  "  Corresppndance  inedite,  de  Mabillon  et  de  Mont- 
faucon,  avec  1'Italie."  Par  M.  Valery.  Paris,  1848. 


xfv  PREFACE 

But  he  who  wishes  to  avoid  the  ground  pre-occupied 
by  others,  and  claim  in  the  world  of  literature  some 
spot,  however  humble,  which  he  may  "  plough  with 
his  own  heifer,"  will  seek  to  establish  himself  not 
where  the  land  is  the  most  fertile,  but  where  it  is  the 
least  enclosed.  So,  when  I  first  turned  my  attention  to 
Historical  Romance,  my  main  aim  was  to  avoid  as 
much  as  possible  those  fairer  portions  of  the  soil  that 
had  been  appropriated  by  the  first  discoverers.  The 
great  author  of  Ivanhoe,  and  those  amongst  whom, 
abroad  and  at  home,  his  mantle  was  divided,  had  em- 
ployed History  to  aid  Romance;  I  contented  myself 
with  the  humbler  task  to  employ  Romance  in  the  aid 
of  History, — to  extract  from  authentic  but  neglected 
chronicles,  and  the  unfrequented  storehouse  of  Archae- 
ology, the  incidents  and  details  that  enliven  the  dry 
narrative  of  facts  to  which  the  general  historian  is 
confined,— construct  my  plot  from  the  actual  events 
themselves,  and  place  the  staple  of  such  interest  as  I 
could  create  in  reciting  the  struggles,  and  delineating 
the  characters,  of  those  who  had  been  the  living  actors 
in  the  real  drama.  For  the  main  materials  of  the  three 
Historical  Romances  I  have  composed,  I  consulted  the 
original  authorities  of  the  time  with  a  care  as  scrupu- 
lous, as  if  intending  to  write,  not  a  fiction  but  a  his- 
tory. And  having  formed  the  best  judgment  I  could 
of  the  events  and  characters  of  the  age,  I  adhered 
faithfully  to  what,  as  an  Historian,  I  should  have  held 
to  be  the  true  course  and  true  causes  of  the  great  po- 
litical events,  and  the  essential  attributes  of  the  prin- 
cipal agents.  Solely  in  that  inward  life  which,  not 
only  as  apart  from  the  more  public  and  historical,  but 
which,  as  almost  wholly  unknown,  becomes  the  fair 
domain  of  the  poet,  did  I  claim  the  legitimate  privileges 
of  fiction,  and  even  here  I  employed  the  agency  of  the 
passions  only  so  far  as  they  served  to  illustrate  what 
I  believed  to  be  the  genuine  natures  of  the  beings  who 
had  actually  lived,  and  to  restore  the  warmth  of  the  hu- 
man heart  to  the  images  recalled  from  the  grave. 

Thus,  even  had  I  the  gifts  of  my  most  illustrious 
predecessors,  I  should  be  precluded  the  use  of  many  of 


PREFACE  xv 

the  more  brilliant.  I  shut  myself  out  from  the  wider 
scope  permitted  to  their  fancy,  and  denied  myself  the 
license  to  choose  or  select  materials,  alter  dates,  vary 
causes  and  effects  according  to  the  convenience  of  that 
more  imperial  fiction  which  invents  the  Probable  where 
it  discards  the  Real.  The  mode  I  have  adopted  has 
perhaps  only  this  merit,  that  it  is  my  own — mine  by 
discovery  and  mine  by  labour.  And  if  I  can  raise  not 
the  spirits  that  obeyed  the  great  master  of  romance, 
nor  gain  the  key  to  the  fairyland  that  opened  to  his 
spell, — at  least  I  have  not  rifled  the  tomb  of  the  wizard 
to  steal  my  art  from  the  book  that  lies  clasped  on  his 
breast. 

In  treating  of  an  age  with  which  the  general  reader 
is  so  unfamiliar  as  that  preceding  the  Norman  Con- 
quest, it  is  impossible  to  avoid  (especially  in  the  earlier 
portions  of  my  tale)  those  explanations  of  the  very 
character  of  the  time  which  would  have  been  unnec- 
essary if  I  had  only  sought  in  History  the  picturesque 
accompaniments  to  Romance.  I  have  to  do  more  than 
present  an  amusing  picture  of  national  manners — de- 
tail the  dress,  and  describe  the  banquet.  According  to 
the  plan  I  adopt,  I  have  to  make  the  reader  acquainted 
with  the  imperfect  fusion  of  races  in  Saxon  England, 
familiarise  him  with  the  contests  of  parties  and  the 
ambition  of  chiefs,  show  him  the  strength  and  the 
weakness  of  a  kindly  but  ignorant  church ;  of  a  brave 
but  turbulent  aristocracy;  of  a  people  partially  free, 
and  naturally  energetic,  but  disunited  by  successive  im- 
migrations, and  having  lost  much  of  the  proud  jeal- 
ousies of  national  liberty  by  submission  to  the  preced- 
ing conquests  of  the  Dane ;  acquiescent  in  the  sway  of 
foreign  kings,  and  with  that  bulwark  against  invasion 
which  an  hereditary  order  of  aristocracy  usually 
erects,  loosened  to  its  very  foundations  by  the  copious 
admixture  of  foreign  nobles.  I  have  to  present  to  the 
reader,  here,  the  imbecile  priestcraft  of  the  illiterate 
monk,  there,  the  dark  superstition  that  still  consulted 
the  deities  of  the  North  by  runes  on  the  elm  bark  and 
adjurations  of  the  dead.  And  in  contrast  to  those 
pictures  of  a  decrepit  monarchy  and  a  fated  race,  I 


xvi  PREFACE 

have  to  bring  forcibly  before  the  reader  the  vigorous 
attributes  of  the  coming  conquerors, — the  stern  will 
and  deep  guile  of  the  Norman  chief — the  comparative 
knowledge  of  the  rising  Norman  Church — the  nascent 
spirit  of  chivalry  in  the  Norman  vavasours ;  a  spirit 
destined  to  emancipate  the  very  people  it  contributed 
to  enslave,  associated,  as  it  imperfectly  was,  with  the 
sense  of  freedom:  disdainful,  it  is  true,  of  the  villein, 
but  proudly  curbing,  though  into  feudal  limits,  the 
domination  of  the  liege.  In  a  word,  I  must  place  fully 
before  the  reader,  if  I  would  be  faithful  to  the  plan  of 
my  work,  the  political  and  moral  features  of  the  age, 
as  well  as  its  lighter  and  livelier  attributes,  and  so  lead 
him  to  perceive,  when  he  has  closed  the  book,  why 
England  was  conquered,  and  how  England  survived 
the  Conquest. 

In  accomplishing  this  task,  I  inevitably  incur  the 
objections  which  the  task  itself  raises  up, — objections 
to  the  labour  it  has  cost ;  to  the  information  which  the 
labour  was  undertaken  in  order  to  bestow ;  objections 
to  passages  which  seem  to  interrupt  the  narrative,  but 
which  in  reality  prepare  for  the  incidents  it  embraces, 
or  explain  the  position  of  the  persons  whose  characters 
it  illustrates, — whose  fate  it  involves;  objections  to  the 
reference  to  authorities,  where  a  fact  might  be  dis- 
puted, or  mistaken  for  fiction ;  objections  to  the  use  of 
Saxon  words,  for  which  no  accurate  synonyms  could 
be  exchanged;  objections,  in  short,  to  the  colouring, 
conduct,  and  composition  of  the  whole  work;  objec- 
tions to  all  that  separate  it  from  the  common  crowd  of 
Romances,  and  stamp  on  it,  for  good  or  for  bad,  a 
character  peculiarly  its  own.  Objections  of  this  kind 
I  cannot  remove,  though  I  have  carefully  weighed 
them  all.  And  with  regard  to  the  objection  most  im- 
portant to  story-teller  and  novel  reader — viz.,  the  dry- 
ness  of  some  of  the  earlier  portions,  though  I  have 
thrice  gone  over  those  passages,  with  the  stern  de- 
termination to  inflict  summary  justice  upon  every  un- 
necessary line,  I  must  own  to  my  regret  that  I  have 
found  but  little  which  it  was  possible  to  omit  without 
rendering  the  after  narrative  obscure,  and  without  in- 


PREFACE  xvii 

juring  whatever  of  more  stirring  interest  the  story,  as 
it  opens,  may  afford  to  the  general  reader  of  Romance. 

As  to  the  Saxon  words  used,  an  explanation  of  all 
those  that  can  be  presumed  unintelligible  to  a  person 
of  ordinary  education,  is  given  either  in  the  text  or  a 
foot-note.  Such  archaisms  are  much  less  numerous 
than  certain  critics  would  fain  represent  them  to  be: 
and  they  have  rarely  indeed  been  admitted  where 
other  words  could  have  been  employed  without  a 
glaring  anachronism,  or  a  tedious  periphrase.  Would 
it  indeed  be  possible,  for  instance,  to  convey  a  notion 
of  the  customs  and  manners  of  our  Saxon  forefathers 
without  employing  words  so  mixed  up  with  their  daily 
usages  and  modes  of  thinking  as  "  wercgcld "  and 
"niddering"?  Would  any  words  from  the  modern 
vocabulary  suggest  the  same  idea,  or  embody  the  same 
meaning? 

One  critic  good-humouredly  exclaims,  "  We  have  a 
full  attendance  of  thegns  and  cnehts,  but  we  should 
have  liked  much  better  our  old  friends  and  approved 
good  masters  thanes  and  knights."  Nothing  could  be 
more  apposite  for  my  justification  than  the  instances 
here  quoted  in  censure ;  nothing  could  more  plainly 
vindicate  the  necessity  of  employing  the  Saxon  words. 
For  I  should  sadly  indeed  have  misled  the  reader  if  I 
had  used  the  word  knight  in  an  age  when  knights  were 
wholly  unknown  to  the  Anglo-Saxon:  and  cneht  no 
more  means  what  we  understand  by  knight,  than  a 
templar  in  modern  phrase  means  a  man  in  chain  mail 
vowed  to  celibacy,  and  the  redemption  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  from  the  hands  of  the  Mussulman.  While, 
since  thegn  and  thane  are  both  archaisms,  I  prefer  the 
former ;  not  only  for  the  same  reason  that  induces  Sir 
Francis  Palgrave  to  prefer  it,  viz.,  because  it  is  the 
more  etymologically  correct ;  but  because  we  take  from 
our  neighbours  the  Scotch,  not  only  the  word  thane, 
but  the  sense  in  which  we  apply  it;  and  that  sense  is 
not  the  same  that  we  ought  to  attach  to  the  various  and 
complicated  notions  of  nobility  which  the  Anglo-Saxon 
comprehended  in  the  title  of  thegn.  It  has  been  per- 
emptorily said  by  more  than  one  writer  in  periodicals, 


xviii  PREFACE 

that  I  have  overrated  the  erudition  of  William,  in  per- 
mitting him  to  know  Latin ;  nay,  to  have  read  the  Com- 
ments of  Caesar  at  the  age  of  eight. — Where  these  gen- 
tlemen find  the  authorities  to  confute  my  statement  I 
know  not;  all  I  know  is,  that  in  the  statement  I  have 
followed  the  original  authorities  usually  deemed  the 
best.  And  I  content  myself  with  referring  the  dis- 
putants to  a  work  not  so  difficult  to  procure  as  (and 
certainly  more  pleasant  to  read  than)  the  old  Chroni- 
cles. In  Miss  Strickland's  "  Lives  of  the  Queens  of 
England,"  (Matilda  of  Flanders,)  the  same  statement 
is  made,  and  no  doubt  upon  the  same  authorities. 

More  surprised  should  I  be  (if  modern  criticism  had 
not  taught  me  in  all  matters  of  assumption  the  nil  ad- 
mirari),  to  find  it  alleged  that  I  have  overstated  not 
only  the  learning  of  the  Norman  duke,  but  that  which 
flourished  in  Normandy  under  his  reign;  for  I  should 
have  thought  that  the  fact  of  the  learning  which 
sprung  up  in  the  most  thriving  period  of  that  prin- 
cipality ;  the  rapidity  of  its  growth ;  the  benefits  it  de- 
rived from  Lanfranc;  the  encouragement  it  received 
from  William,  had  been  phenomena  too  remarkable  in 
the  annals  of  the  age,  and  in  the  history  of  literature, 
to  have  met  with  an  incredulity  which  the  most  mod- 
erate amount  of  information  would  have  sufficed  to 
dispel.  Not  to  refer  such  sceptics  to  graver  authori- 
ties, historical  and  ecclesiastical,  in  order  to  justify  my 
representations  of  that  learning  which,  under  William 
the  Bastard,  made  the  schools  of  Normandy  the  popu- 
lar academies  of  Europe,  a  page  or  two  in  a  book  so 
accessible  as  Villemain's  "  Tableau  du  Moyen  Age," 
will  perhaps  suffice  to  convince  them  of  the  hastiness  of 
their  censure,  and  the  error  of  their  impressions. 

It  is  stated  in  the  Athenaeum,  and,  I  believe,  by  a 
writer  whose  authority  on  the  merits  of  opera  singers 
I  am  far  from  contesting  but  of  whose  competence  to 
instruct  the  world  in  any  other  department  of  human 
industry  or  knowledge  I  am  less  persuaded,  "  that  I 
am  much  mistaken  when  I  represent  not  merely  the 
the  young  soldiers  and  courtiers  of  the  reign 


PREFACE  xix 

of  the  Confessor,  as  well  acquainted  with  the  literature 
of  Greece  and  Rome." 

The  remark,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  is  disingenuous. 
I  have  done  no  such  thing.  This  general  animadver- 
sion is  only  justified  by  a  reference  to  the  pedantry  of 
the  Norman  Mallet  de  Graville — and  it  is  expressly 
stated  in  the  text  that  Mallet  de  Graville  was  originally 
intended  for  the  Church,  and  that  it  was  the  peculiarity 
of  his  literary  information,  rare  in  a  soldier  (but  for 
which  his  earlier  studies  for  the  ecclesiastical  calling 
readily  account,  at  a  time  when  the  Norman  convent 
of  Bee  was  already  so  famous  for  the  erudition  of  its 
teachers,  and  the  number  of  its  scholars,)  that  at- 
tracted towards  him  the  notice  of  Lanfranc,  and 
founded  his  fortunes.  Pedantry  is  made  one  of  his 
characteristics  (as  it  generally  was  the  characteristic 
of  any  man  with  some  pretensions  to  scholarship,  in 
the  earlier  ages;)  and  if  he  indulges  in  a  classical 
allusion,  whether  in  taunting  a  courtier  or  conversing 
with  a  "  Saxon  from  the  wealds  of  Kent,"  it  is  no  more 
out  of  keeping  with  the  pedantry  ascribed  to  him,  than 
it  is  unnatural  in  Dominie  Sampson  to  rail  at  Meg 
Merrilies  in  Latin,  or  James  the  First  to  examine  a 
young  courtier  in  the  same  unfamiliar  language.  Nor 
should  the  critic  in  question,  when  inviting  his  readers 
to  condemn  me  for  making  Mallet  de  Graville  quote 
Horace,  have  omitted  to  state  that  De  Graville  ex- 
pressly laments  that  he  had  never  read,  nor  could  even 
procure,  a  copy  of  the  Roman  poet — judging  only  of 
the  merits  of  Horace  by  an  extract  in  some  monkish 
author,  who  was  equally  likely  to  have  picked  up  his 
quotation  second-hand. 

So,  when  a  reference  is  made  either  by  Graville,  or 
by  any  one  else  in  the  romance,  to  Homeric  fables  and 
personages,  a  critic  who  had  gone  through  the  ordi- 
nary education  of  an  English  gentleman  would  never 
thereby  have  assumed  that  the  person  so  referring  had 
read  the  poems  of  Homer  themselves — he  would  have 
known  that  Homeric  fables,  or  personages,  though  not 
the  Homeric  poems,  were  made  familiar,  by  quaint 


xx  PREFACE 

travesties,1  even  to  the  most  illiterate  audience  of  the 
gothic  age.  It  was  scarcely  more  necessary  to  know 
Homer  then  than  now,  in  order  to  have  heard  of 
Ulysses.  The  writer  in  the  Athenaeum  is  acquainted 
with  Homeric  personages,  but  who  on  earth  would 
ever  presume  to  assert  that  he  is  acquainted  with 
Homer? 

Some  doubt  has  been  thrown  upon  my  accuracy  in 
ascribing  to  the  Anglo-Saxon  the  enjoyments  of  cer- 
tain luxuries  (gold  and  silver  plate — the  use  of  glass, 
etc.),  which  were  extremely  rare  in  an  age  much 
more  recent.  There  is  no  ground  for  that  doubt;  nor 
is  there  a  single  article  of  such  luxury  named  in  the 
text,  for  the  mention  of  which  I  have  not  ample 
authority. 

I  have  indeed  devoted  to  this  work  a  degree  of  re- 
search which,  if  unusual  to  romance,  I  cannot  consider 
superfluous  when  illustrating  an  age  so  remote,  and 
events  unparalleled  in  their  influence  over  the  destinies 
of  England.  Nor  am  I  without  the  hope,  that  what  the 
romance-reader  at  first  regards  as  a  defect,  he  may  ul- 
timately acknowledge  as  a  merit; — forgiving  me  that 
strain  on  his  attention  by  which  alone  I  could  leave 
distinct  in  his  memory  the  action  and  the  actors  in  that 
solemn  tragedy  which  closed  on  the  field  of  Hastings, 
over  the  corpse  of  the  Last  Saxon  King. 

1  And  long  before  the  date  of  the  travesty  known  to  us,  and 
most  popular  amongst  our  mediaeval  ancestors,  it  might  be 
shown  that  some  rude  notion  of  Homer's  fable  and  personages 
had  crept  into  the  North. 


CONTENTS 

BOOK  FIRST 

PAGl 

THE    NORMAN    VISITOR,    THE    SAXON    KING,    AND    THE 
DANISH  PROPHETESS i 

BOOK   SECOND 
LANFRANC  THE  SCHOLAR 47 

BOOK  THIRD 
THE  HOUSE  OF  GODWIN 84 

BOOK   FOURTH 
THE  HEATHEN  ALTAR  AND  THE  SAXON  CHURCH       .       .  135 

BOOK  FIFTH 
DEATH  AND  LOVE 191 

BOOK   SIXTH 
AMBITION 227 

BOOK  SEVENTH 
THE  WELCH  KING 285 

NOTES  .  .  326 


LIST   OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

Attest  the  betrothal  of  these  young  hearts,  O  ye 

Powers Frontispiece 

Facing 
page 

"  This  Harold !  this  Harold  !  all  brave  men  speak  to  me 
of  this  Harold." 80 

"  Harold  dares  not  say  to  the  maid  of  his  love, '  Give  me 
thy  right  hand,  and  be  my  bride.'" 160 

A  woman  stood  dauntless  between  the  Earl  and  his  foes.  244 


HAROLD, 

THE   LAST  OF  THE  SAXON  KINGS 


BOOK    I 

THE  NORMAN  VISITOR,   THE  SAXON  KING,  AND 
THE   DANISH  PROPHETESS 

CHAPTER  I 

Merry  was  the  month  of  May  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  1052.  Few  were  the  boys,  and  few  the  lasses, 
who  overslept  themselves  on  the  first  of  that  buxom 
month.  Long  ere  the  dawn,  the  crowds  had  sought 
mead  and  woodland,  to  cut  poles  and  wreathe  flowers. 
Many  a  mead  then  lay  fair  and  green  beyond  the  vil- 
lage of  Charing,  and  behind  the  isle  of  Thorney, 
(amidst  the  brakes  and  briars  of  which  were  then  ris- 
ing fast  and  fair  the  Hall  and  Abbey  of  Westminster;) 
many  a  wood  lay  dark  in  the  starlight,  along  the 
higher  ground  that  sloped  from  the  dank  Strand,  with 
its  numerous  canals  or  dykes; — and  on  either  side  of 
the  great  road  into  Kent: — flutes  and  horns  sounded 
far  and  near  through  the  green  places,  and  laughter 
and  song,  and  the  crash  of  breaking  boughs. 

As  the  dawn  came  grey  up  the  east,  arch  and  bloom- 
ing faces  bowed  down  to  bathe  in  the  May  dew: 
VOL.  I.— i  i 


2  HAROLD 

Patient  oxen  stood  dozing  by  the  hedge-rows,  all  fra- 
grant with  blossoms,  till  the  gay  spoilers  of  the  May 
came  forth  from  the  woods  with  lusty  poles,  followed 
by  girls  with  laps  full  of  flowers,  which  they  had 
caught  asleep.  The  poles  were  pranked  with  nose- 
gays, and  a  chaplet  was  hung  round  the  horns  of  every 
ox.  Then  towards  daybreak,  the  processions  streamed 
back  into  the  city,  through  all  its  gates;  boys  with 
their  May-gads  (peeled  willow  wands  twined  with 
cowslips)  going  before;  and  clear  through  the  lively 
din  of  the  horns  and  flutes,  and  amidst  the  moving 
grove  of  branches,  choral  voices,  singing  some  early 
Saxon  stave,  precursor  of  the  later  song — 

"  We  have  brought  the  summer  home." 

Often  in  the  good  old  days  before  the  Monk-king 
reigned,  kings  and  ealdermen  had  thus  gone  forth 
a-maying;  but  these  merriments,  savouring  of  hea- 
thenesse, that  good  prince  misliked:  nevertheless  the 
song  was  as  blithe,  and  the  boughs  were  as  green,  as 
if  king  and  ealderman  had  walked  in  the  train. 

On  the  great  Kent  road,  the  fairest  meads  for  the 
cowslip,  and  the  greenest  woods  for  the  bough,  sur- 
rounded a  large  building  that  once  had  belonged  to 
some  voluptuous  Roman,  now  all  defaced  and  de- 
spoiled; but  the  boys  and  the  lasses  shunned  those 
demesnes;  and  even  in  their  mirth,  as  they  passed 
homeward  along  the  road,  and  saw  near  the  ruined 
walls,  and  timbered  outbuildings,  grey  Druid  stones 
(that  spoke  of  an  age  before  either  Saxon  or  Roman 
invader)  gleaming  through  the  dawn — the  song  was 
hushed — the  very  youngest  crossed  themselves;  and 
the  elder,  in  solemn  whispers,  suggested  the  precaution 
of  changing  the  song  into  a  psalm.  For  in  that  old 


HAROLD  3 

building  dwelt  Hilda,  of  famous  and  dark  repute; 
Hilda,  who,  despite  all  law  and  canon,  was  still  be- 
lieved to  practise  the  dismal  arts  of  the  Wicca  and 
Morthwyrtha  (the  witch  and  worshipper  of  the  dead). 
But  once  out  of  sight  of  those  fearful  precincts,  the 
psalm  was  forgotten,  and  again  broke,  loud,  clear,  and 
silvery,  the  joyous  chorus. 

So,  entering  London  about  sunrise,  doors  and  win- 
dows were  duly  wreathed  with  garlands;  and  every 
village  in  the  suburbs  had  its  May-pole,  which  stood 
in  its  place  all  the  year.  On  that  happy  day  labour 
rested;  ceorl  and  theowe  had  alike  a  holiday  to  dance, 
and  tumble  round  the  May-pole ;  and  thus,  on  the  first 
of  May — Youth,  and  Mirth,  and  Music,  "  brought  the 
summer  home." 

The  next  day  you  might  still  see  where  the  buxom 
bands  had  been;  you  might  track  their  way  by  fallen 
flowers,  and  green  leaves,  and  the  deep  ruts  made  by 
oxen  (yoked  often  in  teams  from  twenty  to  forty,  in 
the  wains  that  carried  home  the  poles);  and  fair  and 
frequent  throughout  the  land,  from  any  eminence,  you 
might  behold  the  hamlet  swards  still  crowned  with  the 
May  trees,  and  air  still  seemed  fragrant  with  their 
garlands. 

It  is  on  that  second  day  of  May,  1052,  that  my  story 
opens,  at  the  House  of  Hilda,  the  reputed  Morthwyr- 
tha. It  stood  upon  a  gentle  and  verdant  height;  and, 
even  through  all  the  barbarous  mutilation  it  had 
undergone  from  barbarian  hands,  enough  was  left 
strikingly  to  contrast  the  ordinary  abodes  of  the 
Saxon. 

The  remains  of  Roman  art  were  indeed  still  numer- 
ous throughout  England,  but  it  happened  rarely  that 
the  Saxon  had  chosen  his  home  amidst  the  villas  of 


4  HAROLD 

those  noble  and  primal  conquerors.  Our  first  fore- 
fathers were  more  inclined  to  destroy  than  to  adapt. 

By  what  chance  this  building  became  an  exception 
to  the  ordinary  rule,  it  is  now  impossible  to  conjecture, 
but  from  a  very  remote  period  it  had  sheltered  suc- 
cessive races  of  Teuton  lords. 

The  changes  wrought  in  the  edifice  were  mournful 
and  grotesque.  What  was  now  the  Hall,  had  evi- 
dently been  the  atrium;  the  round  shield,  with  its 
pointed  boss,  the  spear,  sword,  and  small  curved  saex 
of  the  early  Teuton,  were  suspended  from  the  col- 
umns on  which  once  had  been  wreathed  the  flowers; 
in  the  centre  of  the  floor,  where  fragments  of  the  old 
mosaic  still  glistened  from  the  hard-pressed  paving 
of  clay  and  lime,  what  now  was  the  fire-place  had 
been  the  impluvium,  and  the  smoke  went  sullenly 
through  the  aperture  in  the  roof,  made  of  old  to  re- 
ceive the  rains  of  heaven.  Around  the  Hall  were  still 
left  the  old  cubicula  or  dormitories,  (small,  high,  and 
lighted  but  from  the  doors,)  which  now  served  for 
the  sleeping-rooms  of  the  humbler  guest  or  the  house- 
hold servant;  while  at  the  farther  end  of  the  Hall,  the 
wide  space  between  the  columns,  which  had  once 
given  ample  vista  from  graceful  awnings  into  tablinum 
and  viridarium,  was  filled  up  with  rude  rubble  and 
Roman  bricks,  leaving  but  a  low,  round,  arched  door, 
that  still  led  into  the  tablinum.  But  that  tablinum, 
formerly  the  gayest  state-room  of  the  Roman  lord, 
was  now  filled  with  various  lumber,  piles  of  faggots, 
and  farming  utensils.  On  either  side  of  this  dese- 
crated apartment,  stretched,  to  the  right,  the  old  lara- 
rium,  stripped  of  its  ancient  images  of  ancestor  and 
god;  to  the  left,  what  had  been  the  gyncecium 
(women's  apartment). 


HAROLD  5 

One  side  of  the  ancient  peristyle,  which  was  of  vast 
extent,  was  now  converted  into  stabling,  sties  for 
swine,  and  stalls  for  oxen.  On  the  other  side  was 
constructed  a  Christian  chapel,  made  of  rough  oak 
planks,  fastened  by  plates  at  the  top,  and  with  a  roof 
of  thatched  reeds.  The  columns  and  wall  at  the  ex- 
treme end  of  the  peristyle  were  a  mass  of  ruins, 
through  the  gigantic  rents  of  which  loomed  a  grassy 
hillock,  its  sides  partially  covered  with  clumps  of 
furze.  On  this  hillock  were  the  mutilated  remains  of 
an  ancient  Druidical  crommel,  in  the  centre  of  which 
(near  a  funeral  mound,  or  barrow,  with  the  bautas- 
tean,  or  gravestone,  of  some  early  Saxon  chief  at  one 
end)  had  been  sacrilegiously  placed  an  altar  to  Thor, 
as  was  apparent  both  from  the  shape,  from  a  rude, 
half-obliterated,  sculptured  relief  of  the  god,  with  his 
lifted  hammer,  and  a  few  Runic  letters.  Amidst  the 
temple  of  the  Briton  the  Saxon  had  reared  the  shrine 
of  his  triumphant  war-god. 

Now  still,  amidst  the  ruins  of  that  extreme  side  of 
the  peristyle  which  opened  to  this  hillock  were  left, 
first,  an  ancient  Roman  fountain,  that  now  served  to 
water  the  swine,  and  next,  a  small  sacellum,  or  fane  to 
i  Bacchus  (as  relief  and  frieze,  yet  spared,  betokened)  : 
thus  the  eye,  at  one  survey,  beheld  the  shrines  of  four 
creeds:  the  Druid,  mystical  and  symbolical;  the  Ro- 
man, sensual,  but  humane;  the  Teutonic,  ruthless  and 
destroying;  and,  latest  risen  and  surviving  all,  though 
as  yet  with  but  little  of  its  gentler  influence  over  the 
deeds  of  men,  the  edifice  of  the  Faith  of  Peace. 

Across  the  peristyle,  theowes  and  swineherds  passed 
to  and  fro: — in  the  atrium,  men  of  a  higher  class,  half- 
armed,  were,  some  drinking,  some  at  dice,  some  play- 
ing with  huge  hounds,  or  caressing  the  hawks  that 
stood  grave  and  solemn  on  their  perches. 


6  HAROLD 

The  lararium  was  deserted;  the  gyncecium  was  still, 
as  in  the  Roman  time,  the  favoured  apartment  of  the 
female  portion  of  the  household,  and  indeed  bore  the 
same  name,1 — and  with  the  group  there  assembled 
we  have  now  to  do. 

The  appliances  of  the  chamber  showed  the  rank  and 
wealth  of  the  owner.  At  that  period  the  domestic 
luxury  of  the  rich  was  infinitely  greater  than  has  been 
generally  supposed.  The  industry  of  the  women  dec- 
orated wall  and  furniture  with  needlework  and  hang- 
ings: and  as  a  thegn  forfeited  his  rank  if  he  lost  his 
lands,  so  the  higher  orders  of  an  aristocracy  rather  of 
wealth  than  birth  had,  usually,  a  certain  portion  of 
superfluous  riches,  which  served  to  flow  towards  the 
bazaars  of  the  East  and  the  nearer  markets  of  Flan- 
ders and  Saracenic  Spain. 

In  this  room  the  walls  were  draped  with  silken 
hangings  richly  embroidered.  The  single  window 
was  glazed  with  a  dull  grey  glass.2  On  a  beaufet 
were  ranged  horns  tipped  with  silver,  and  a  few  ves- 
sels of  pure  gold.  A  small  circular  table  in  the  cen- 
tre was  supported  by  symbolical  monsters  quaintly 
carved.  At  one  side  of  the  wall,  on  a  long  settle, 
some  half-a-dozen  handmaids  were  employed  in  spin- 
ning; remote  from  them,  and  near  the  window,  sat  a 

1  "  The  apartment  in  which  the  Anglo-Saxon  women  lived, 
was  called  Gynecium." — FOSBROOKE,  vol.  ii.,  p.  570. 

2  Glass,  introduced  about  the  time  of  Bede,  was  more  com- 
mon then  in  the  houses  of  the  wealthy,  whether  for  vessels 
or  windows,  than  in  the  much  later  age  of  the  gorgeous  Plan- 
tagenets.     Alfred,  in  one  of  his  poems,  introduces  glass  as  a 
familiar  illustration : 

"  So  oft  the  mild  sea 
With  south  wind 
As  grey  glass  clear 
Becomes  grimly  troubled." 

SHAR.  TURNER. 


HAROLD  7 

woman  advanced  in  years,  and  of  a  mien  and  aspect 
singularly  majestic.  Upon  a  small  tripod  before  her 
was  a  Runic  manuscript,  and  an  inkstand  of  elegant 
form,  with  a  silver  graphium,  or  pen.  At  her  feet 
reclined  a  girl  somewhat  about  the  age  of  sixteen,  her 
long  hair  parted  across  her  forehead  and  falling  far 
down  her  shoulders.  Her  dress  was  a  linen  under- 
tunic,  with  long  sleeves,  rising  high  to  the  throat,  and 
without  one  of  the  modern  artificial  restraints  of  the 
shape,  the  simple  belt  sufficed  to  show  the  slender 
proportions  and  delicate  outline  of  the  wearer.  The 
colour  of  the  dress  was  of  the  purest  white,  but  its 
hems,  or  borders,  were  richly  embroidered.  This 
girl's  beauty  was  something  marvellous.  In  a  land 
proverbial  for  fair  women,  it  had  already  obtained  her 
the  name  of  "  the  fair."  In  that  beauty  were  blended, 
not  as  yet  without  a  struggle  for  mastery,  the  two  ex- 
pressions seldom  united  in  one  countenance,  the  soft 
and  the  noble;  indeed  in  the  whole  aspect  there  was 
the  evidence  of  some  internal  struggle;  the  intelli- 
gence was  not  yet  complete;  the  soul  and  heart  were 
not  yet  united:  and  Edith  the  Christian  maid  dwelt 
in  the  home  of  Hilda  the  heathen  prophetess.  The 
girl's  blue  eyes,  rendered  dark  by  the  shade  of  their 
long  lashes,  were  fixed  intently  upon  the  stern  and 
troubled  countenance  which  was  bent  upon  her  own, 
but  bent  with  that  abstract  gaze  which  shows  that  the 
soul  is  absent  from  the  sight.  So  sate  Hilda,  and  so 
reclined  her  grandchild  Edith. 

"  Grandam,"  said  the  girl  in  a  low  voice  and  after 
a  long  pause;  and  the  sound  of  her  voice  so  startled 
the  handmaids,  that  every  spindle  stopped  for  a  mo- 
ment and  then  plied  with  renewed  activity;  "  Gran- 
dam,  what  troubles  you — are  you  not  thinking  of  the 


8  HAROLD 

great  Earl  and  his  fair  sons,  now  outlawed  far  over 
the  wide  seas?  " 

As  the  girl  spoke,  Hilda  started  slightly,  like  one 
awakened  from  a  dream;  and  when  Edith  had  con- 
cluded her  question,  she  rose  slowly  to  the  height  of 
a  statue,  unbowed  by  her  years,  and  far  towering 
above  even  the  ordinary  standard  of  men ;  and  turning 
from  the  child,  her  eye  fell  upon  the  row  of  silent 
maids,  each  at  her  rapid,  noiseless,  stealthy  work. 
"  Ho! "  said  she;  her  cold  and  haughty  eye  gleaming 
as  she  spoke;  "  yesterday  they  brought  home  the  sum- 
mer— to-day,  ye  aid  to  bring  home  the  winter.  Weave 
well — heed  well  warf  and  woof;  Skulda1  is  amongst 
ye,  and  her  pale  fingers  guide  the  web! " 

The  maidens  lifted  not  their  eyes,  though  in  every 
cheek  the  colour  paled  at  the  words  of  the  mistress. 
The  spindles  revolved,  the  thread  shot,  and  again 
there  was  silence  more  freezing  than  before. 

"  Askest  thou,"  said  Hilda  at  length,  passing  to  the 
child,  as  if  the  question  so  long  addressed  to  her  ear 
had  only  just  reached  her  mind;  "  askest  thou  if  I 
thought  of  the  Earl  and  his  fair  sons? — yea,  I  heard 
the  smith  welding  arms  on  the  anvil,  and  the  hammer 
of  the  shipwright  shaping  strong  ribs  for  the  horses 
of  the  sea.  Ere  the  reaper  has  bound  his  sheaves, 
Earl  Godwin  will  scare  the  Normans  in  the  halls  of 
the  Monk-king,  as  the  hawk  scares  the  brood  in  the 
dovecot.  Weave  well,  heed  well  warf  and  woof,  nim- 
ble maidens — strong  be  the  texture,  for  biting  is  the 
worm." 

"  What  weave  they,  then,  good  grandmother? " 
asked  the  girl,  with  wonder  and  awe  in  her  soft  mild 
eyes. 

1  Skulda,  the  Norna,  or  Fate,  that  presided  over  the  future. 


HAROLD  9 

"The  winding-sheet  of  the  great!" 

Hilda's  lips  closed,  but  her  eyes,  yet  brighter  than 
before,  gazed  upon  space,  and  her  pale  hand  seemed 
tracing  letters,  like  runes,  in  the  air. 

Then  slowly  she  turned,  and  looked  forth  through 
the  dull  window.  "  Give  me  my  coverchief  and  my 
staff,"  said  she  quickly. 

Every  one  of  the  handmaids,  blithe  for  excuse  to 
quit  a  task  which  seemed  recently  commenced,  and 
was  certainly  not  endeared  to  them  by  the  knowledge 
of  its  purpose  communicated  to  them  by  the  lady,  rose 
to  obey. 

Unheeding  the  hands  that  vied  with  each  other, 
Hilda  took  the  hood,  and  drew  it  partially  over  her 
brow.  Leaning  lightly  on  a  long  staff,  the  head  of 
which  formed  a  raven,  carved  from  some  wood  stained 
black,  she  passed  into  the  hall,  and  thence  through 
the  desecrated  tablinum,  into  the  mighty  court  formed 
by  the  shattered  peristyle;  there  she  stopped,  mused 
a  moment,  and  called  on  Edith.  The  girl  was  soon 
by  her  side. 

"  Come  with  me. — There  is  a  face  you  shall  see  but 
twice  in  life; — this  day," — and  Hilda  paused,  and  the 
rigid  and  almost  colossal  beauty  of  her  countenance 
softened. 

"  And  when  again,  my  grandmother?  " 

"  Child,  put  thy  warm  hand  in  mine.  So!  the  vision 
darkens  from  me, — when  again,  saidst  thou,  Edith? 
— alas,  I  know  not." 

V/hile  thus  speaking,  Hilda  passed  slowly  by  the 
Roman  fountain  and  the  heathen  fane,  and  ascended 
the  little  hillock.  There  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
summit,  backed  by  the  Druid  crommel  and  the  Teu- 
ton altar,  she  seated  herself  deliberately  on  the  sward. 


10  HAROLD 

A  few  daisies,  primroses,  and  cowslips,  grew  around ; 
these  Edith  began  to  pluck.  Singing,  as  she  wove, 
a  simple  song,  that,  not  more  by  the  dialect  than  the 
sentiment,  betrayed  its  origin  in  the  ballad  of  the 
Norse,1  which  had,  in  its  more  careless  composition, 
a  character  quite  distinct  from  the  artificial  poetry  of 
the  Saxons.  The  song  may  be  thus  imperfectly  ren- 
dered: 

"  Merrily  the  throstle  sings 

Amid  the  merry  May; 
The  throstle  sings  but  to  my  ear ; 
My  heart  is  far  away ! 

"  Blithely  bloometh  mead  and  bank ; 

And  blithely  buds  the  tree; 
And  hark ! — they  bring  the  Summer  home ; 
It  has  no  home  with  me ! 

"  They  have  outlawed  him — my  Summer ! 

An  outlaw  far  away ! — 

The  birds  may  sing,  the  flowers  may  bloom, — 
O,  give  me  back  my  May !  " 

As  she  came  to  the  last  line,  her  soft  low  voice 
seemed  to  awaken  a  chorus  of  sprightly  horns  and 
trumpets,  and  certain  other  wind  instruments  peculiar 
to  the  music  of  that  day.  The  hillock  bordered  the 
high  road  to  London — which  then  wound  through 
wastes  of  forest  land — and  now  emerging  from  the 
trees  to  the  left  appeared  a  goodly  company.  First 

1  The  historians  of  our  literature  have  not  done  justice  to 
the  great  influence  which  the  poetry  of  the  Danes  has  had 
upon  our  early  national  muse.  I  have  little  doubt  but  that  to 
that  source  may  be  traced  the  minstrelsy  of  our  borders,  and 
the  Scottish  Lowlands ;  while,  even  in  the  central  counties, 
the  example  and  exertions  of  Canute  must  have  had  consid- 
erable effect  on  the  taste  and  spirit  of  our  Scops.  That  great 
prince  afforded  the  amplest  encouragement  to  Scandinavian 
poetry,  and  Olaus  names  eight  Danish  poets,  who  flourished 
at  his  court. 


HAROLD  II 

came  two  riders  abreast,  each  holding  a  banner.  Gn 
the  one  was  depicted  the  cross  and  five  martlets,  the 
device  of  Edward,  afterwards  surnamed  the  Con- 
fessor: on  the  other,  a  plain  broad  cross  with  a  deep 
border  round  it,  and  the  streamer  shaped  into  sharp 
points. 

The  first  was  familiar  to  Edith,  who  dropped  her 
garland  to  gaze  on  the  approaching  pageant;  the  last 
was  strange  to  her.  She  had  been  accustomed  to  see 
the  banner  of  the  great  Earl  Godwin  by  the  side  of 
the  Saxon  king;  and  she  said,  almost  indignantly, — 

"  Who  dares,  sweet  grandam,  to  place  banner  or 
pennon  where  Earl  Godwin's  ought  to  float?" 

"  Peace,"  said  Hilda,  "  peace  and  look." 

Immediately  behind  the  standard-bearers  came  two 
figures — strangely  dissimilar  indeed  in  mien,  in  years, 
in  bearing:  each  bore  on  his  left  wrist  a  hawk.  The 
one  was  mounted  on  a  milk-white  palfrey,  with  hous- 
ings inlaid  with  gold  and  uncut  jewels.  Though  not 
really  old — for  he  was  much  on  this  side  of  sixty — 
both  his  countenance  and  carriage  evinced  age.  His 
complexion,  indeed,  was  extremely  fair,  and  his 
cheeks  ruddy;  but  the  visage  was  long  and  deeply 
furrowed,  and  from  beneath  a  bonnet  not  dissimilar 
to  those  in  use  among  the  Scotch,  streamed  hair  long 
and  white  as  snow,  mingling  with  a  large  and  forked 
beard.  White  seemed  his  chosen  colour.  White  was 
the  upper  tunic  clasped  on  his  shoulder  with  a  broad 
ouche  or  brooch;  white  the  woollen  leggings  fitted  to 
somewhat  emaciated  limbs;  and  white  the  mantle, 
though  broidered  with  a  broad  hem  of  gold  and  pur- 
ple. The  fashion  of  his  dress  was  that  which  well 
became  a  noble  person,  but  it  suited  ill  the  somewhat 
frail  and  graceless  figure  of  the  rider.  Nevertheless, 


12  HAROLD 

as  Edith  saw  him,  she  rose,  with  an  expression  of  deep 
reverence  on  her  countenance,  and  saying,  "  It  is  our 
lord  the  King,"  advanced  some  steps  down  the  hillock, 
and  there  stood,  her  arms  folded  on  her  breast,  and 
quite  forgetful,  in  her  innocence  and  youth,  that  she 
had  left  the  house  without  the  cloak  and  coverchief 
which  were  deemed  indispensable  to  the  fitting  ap- 
pearance of  maid  and  matron  when  they  were  seen 
abroad. 

"  Fair  sir,  and  brother  mine,"  said  the  deep  voice 
of  the  younger  rider,  in  the  Romance  or  Norman 
tongue,  "  I  have  heard  that  the  small  people  of  whom 
my  neighbours,  the  Bretons,  tell  us  much,  abound 
greatly  in  this  fair  land  of  yours;  and  if  I  were  not  by 
the  side  of  one  whom  no  creature  unassoilzed  and 
unbaptised  dare  approach,  by  sweet  St.  Valery  I 
should  say — yonder  stands  one  of  those  same  gentilles 
fees!" 

King  Edward's  eye  followed  the  direction  of  his 
companion's  outstretched  hand,  and  his  quiet  brow 
slightly  contracted  as  he  beheld  the  young  form  of 
Edith  standing  motionless  a  few  yards  before  him, 
with  the  warm  May  wind  lifting  and  playing  with  her 
long  golden  locks.  He  checked  his  palfrey,  and  mur- 
mured some  Latin  words  which  the  knight  beside  him 
recognised  as  a  prayer,  and  to  which,  doffing  his  cap, 
he  added  an  Amen,  in  a  tone  of  such  unctuous  grav- 
ity, that  the  royal  saint  rewarded  him  with  a  faint 
approving  smile,  and  an  affectionate  "  Bene  bene, 
Piosissime." 

Then  inclining  his  palfrey's  head  towards  the  knoll, 
he  motioned  to  the  girl  to  approach  him.  Edith,  with 
a  heightened  colour,  obeyed,  and  came  to  the  road- 
side. The  standard-bearers  halted,  as  did  the  king 


HAROLD  13 

and  his  comrade — the  procession  behind  halted — 
thirty  knights,  two  bishops,  eight  abbots,  all  on  fiery 
steeds  and  in  Norman  garb — squires  and  attendants 
on  foot — a  long  and  pompous  retinue — they  halted  all. 
Only  a  stray  hound  or  two  broke  from  the  rest,  and 
wandered  into  the  forest  land  with  heads  trailing. 

"  Edith,  my  child,"  said  Edward,  still  in  Norman- 
French,  for  he  spoke  his  own  language  with  hesita- 
tion, and  the  Romance  tongue,  which  had  long  been 
familiar  to  the  higher  classes  in  England,  had,  since 
his  accession,  become  the  only  language  in  use  at 
court,  and  as  such  every  one  of  "  Eorl-kind  "  was  sup- 
posed to  speak  it ; — "  Edith,  my  child,  thou  hast  not 
forgotten  my  lessons,  I  trow;  thou  singest  the  hymns 
I  gave  thee,  and  neglectest  not  to  wear  the  relic 
round  thy  neck." 

The  girl  hung  her  head,  and  spoke  not. 

"  How  comes  it,  then,"  continued  the  King,  with 
a  voice  to  which  he  in  vain  endeavoured  to  impart  an 
accent  of  severity,  "  how  comes  it,  O  little  one,  that 
thou,  whose  thoughts  should  be  lifted  already  above 
this  carnal  world,  and  eager  for  the  service  of  Mary 
the  chaste  and  blessed,  standest  thus  hoodless  and 
alone  on  the  waysides,  a  mark  for  the  eyes  of  men? 
go  to,  it  is  naught." 

Thus  reproved,  and  in  presence  of  so  large  and 
brilliant  a  company,  the  girl's  colour  went  and  came, 
her  breast  heaved  high,  but  with  an  effort  beyond 
her  age  she  checked  her  tears,  and  said  meekly,  "  My 
grandmother,  Hilda,  bade  me  come  with  her,  and  I 
came." 

"Hilda!"  said  the  King,  backing  his  palfrey  with 
apparent  perturbation,  "but  Hilda  is  not  with  thee; 
I  see  her  not." 


I4  HAROLD 

As  he  spoke,  Hilda  rose,  and  so  suddenly  did  her  tall 
form  appear  on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  that  it  seemed 
as  if  she  had  emerged  from  the  earth.  With  a  light 
and  rapid  stride  she  gained  the  side  of  her  grand- 
child; and  after  a  slight  and  haughty  reverence,  said, 
"  Hilda  is  here;  what  wants  Edward  the  King  with 
his  servant  Hilda?  " 

"  Nought,  nought,"  said  the  King,  hastily;  and 
something  like  fear  passed  over  his  placid  counte- 
nance; "save,  indeed,"  he  added,  with  a  reluctant 
tone,  as  that  of  a  man  who  obeys  his  conscience 
against  his  inclination,  "  that  I  would  pray  thee  to 
keep  this  child  pure  to  threshold  and  altar,  as  is  meet 
for  one  whom  our  Lady,  the  Virgin,  in  due  time,  will 
elect  to  her  service." 

"  Not  so,  son  of  Etheldred,  son  of  Woden,  the  last 
descendant  of  Penda  should  live,  not  to  glide  a  ghost 
amidst  cloisters,  but  to  rock  children  for  war  in  their 
father's  shield.  Few  men  are  there  yet  like  the  men 
of  old;  and  while  the  foot  of  the  foreigner  is  on  the 
Saxon  soil  no  branch  of  the  stem  of  Woden  should  be 
nipped  in  the  leaf." 

"Per  la  resplendar  De,1  bold  dame,"  cried  the 
knight  by  the  side  of  Edward,  while  a  lurid  flush 
passed  over  his  cheek  of  bronze;  "but  thou  art  too 
glib  of  tongue  for  a  subject,  and  pratest  overmuch  of 
Woden,  the  Paynim,  for  the  lips  of  a  Christian  ma- 
tron." 

Hilda  met  the  flashing  eye  of  the  knight  with  a  brow 
of  lofty  scorn,  on  which  still  a  certain  terror  was  vis- 
ible. 

"  Child,"  she  said,  putting  her  hand  upon  Edith's 

1 "  By  the  splendour  of  God." 


HAROLD  15 

fair  locks;  "this  is  the  man  them  shalt  see  but  twice 
in  thy  life; — look  up,  and  mark  well!" 

Edith  instinctively  raised  her  eyes,  and,  once  fixed 
upon  the  knight,  they  seemed  chained  as  by  a  spell. 
His  vest,  of  a  cramoisay  so  dark,  that  it  seemed  black 
beside  the  snowy  garb  of  the  Confessor,  was  edged  by 
a  deep  band  of  embroidered  gold;  leaving  perfectly 
bare  his  firm,  full  throat — firm  and  full  as  a  column  of 
granite, — a  short  jacket  or  manteline  of  fur,  pendant 
from  the  shoulders,  left  developed  in  all  its  breadth  a 
breast,  that  seemed  meet  to  stay  the  march  of  an 
army;  and  on  the  left  arm,  curved  to  support  the  fal- 
con, the  vast  muscles  rose,  round  and  gnarled,  through 
the  close  sleeve. 

In  height,  he  was  really  but  little  above  the  stature 
of  many  of  those  present;  nevertheless,  so  did  his 
port,1  his  air,  the  nobility  of  his  large  proportions,  fill 
the  eye,  that  he  seemed  to  tower  immeasurably  above 
the  rest. 

His  countenance  was  yet  more  remarkable  than  his 
form;  still  in  the  prime  of  youth,  he  seemed  at  the 
first  glance  younger,  at  the  second  older,  than  he 
was.  At  the  first  glance  younger;  for  his  face  was 
perfectly  shaven,  without  even  the  moustache  which 
the  Saxon  courtier,  in  imitating  the  Norman,  still  de- 
clined to  surrender;  and  the  smooth  visage  and  bare 
throat  sufficed  in  themselves  to  give  the  air  of  youth 
to  that  dominant  and  imperious  presence.  His  small 
skull-cap  left  unconcealed  his  forehead,  shaded  with 
short  thick  hair,  uncurled,  but  black  and  glossy  as 
the  wings  of  a  raven.  It  was  on  that  forehead  that 
time  had  set  its  trace;  it  was  knit  into  a  frown  over 

1  See  Note  (A)  at  the  etid  of  this  volume. 


16  HAROLD 

the  eyebrows;  lines  deep  as  furrows  crossed  its  broad, 
but  not  elevated  expanse.  That  frown  spoke  of  hasty 
ire  and  the  habit  of  stern  command;  those  furrows 
spoke  of  deep  thought  and  plotting  scheme;  the  one 
betrayed  but  temper  and  circumstance;  the  other, 
more  noble,  spoke  of  the  character  and  the  intellect. 
The  face  was  square,  and  the  regard  lion-like;  the 
mouth — small,  and  even  beautiful  in  outline — had  a 
sinister  expression  in  its  exceeding  firmness;  and  the 
jaw — vast,  solid,  as  if  bound  in  iron — showed  obsti- 
nate, ruthless,  determined  will;  such  a  jaw  as  be- 
longs to  the  tiger  amongst  beasts,  and  the  conqueror 
amongst  men;  such  as  it  is  seen  in  the  effigies  of 
Caesar,  of  Cortes,  of  Napoleon. 

That  presence  was  well  calculated  to  command  the 
admiration  of  women,  not  less  than  the  awe  of  men. 
But  no  admiration  mingled  with  the  terror  that  seized 
the  girl  as  she  gazed  long  and  wistful  upon  the  knight. 
The  fascination  of  the  serpent  on  the  bird  held  her 
mute  and  frozen.  Never  was  that  face  forgotten; 
often  in  after-life  it  haunted  her  in  the  noon-day,  it 
frowned  upon  her  dreams. 

"  Fair  child,"  said  the  knight,  fatigued  at  length  by 
the  obstinacy  of  the  gaze,  while  that  smile  peculiar  to 
those  who  have  commanded  men  relaxed  his  brow, 
and  restored  the  native  beauty  to  his  lip,  "  fair  child, 
learn  not  from  thy  peevish  grandam  so  uncourteous 
a  lesson  as  hate  of  the  foreigner.  As  thou  growest 
into  womanhood,  know  that  Norman  knight  is  sworn 
slave  to  lady  fair; "  and,  doffing  his  cap,  he  took  from 
it  an  uncut  jewel,  set  in  Byzantine  filigree  work. 
"  Hold  out  thy  lap,  my  child ;  and  when  thou  hearest 
the  foreigner  scoffed,  set  this  bauble  in  thy  locks, 


HAROLD  17 

and  think  kindly  of  William,  Count  of  the  Nor- 
mans." l 

He  dropped  the  jewel  on  the  ground  as  he  spoke; 
for  Edith,  shrinking  and  unsoftened  towards  him, 
held  no  lap  to  receive  it;  and  Hilda,  to  whom  Edward 
had  been  speaking  in  a  low  voice,  advanced  to  the 
spot  and  struck  the  jewel  with  her  staff  under  the 
hoofs  of  the  king's  palfrey. 

"  Son  of  Emma,  the  Norman  woman,  who  sent  thy 
youth  into  exile,  trample  on  the  gifts  of  thy  Norman 
kinsman.  And  if,  as  men  say,  thou  art  of  such  gifted 
holiness  that  Heaven  grants  thy  hand  the  power  to 
heal,  and  thy  voice  the  power  to  curse,  heal  thy  coun- 
try, and  curse  the  stranger!" 

She  extended  her  right  arm  to  William  as  she  spoke, 
and  such  was  the  dignity  of  her  passion,  and  such  its 
force,  that  an  awe  fell  upon  all.  Then  dropping  her 
hood  over  her  face,  she  slowly  turned  away,  regained 
the  summit  of  the  knoll,  and  stood  erect  beside  the 
altar  of  the  Northern  god,  her  face  invisible  through 
the  hood  drawn  completely  over  it,  and  her  form  mo- 
tionless as  a  statue. 

"  Ride  on,"  said  Edward,  crossing  himself. 

"  Now  by  the  bones  of  St.  Valery,"  said  William, 
after  a  pause,  in  which  his  dark  keen  eye  noted  the 
gloom  upon  the  King's  gentle  face,  "  it  moves  much 
my  simple  wonder  how  even  presence  so  saintly  can 
hear  without  wrath  words  so  unleal  and  foul.  Gram- 

1  It  is  noticeable  that  the  Norman  dukes  did  not  call  them- 
selves Counts  or  Dukes  of  Normandy,  but  of  the  Normans; 
and  the  first  Anglo-Norman  kings,  till  Richard  the  First, 
styled  themselves  Kings  of  the  English,  not  of  England.  In 
both  Saxon  and  Norman  chronicles,  William  usually  bears 
the  title  of  Count  (Comes),  but  in  this  tale  he  will  be  gen- 
erally called  Duke,  as  a  title  more  familiar  to  us. 
VOL.  L— 2 


i 8  HAROLD 

ercy,  an  the  proudest  dame  in  Normandy  (and  I  take 
her  to  be  wife  to  my  stoutest  baron,  William  Fitz- 
osborne)  had  spoken  thus  to  me — " 

"  Thou  wouldst  have  done  as  I,  my  brother,"  in- 
terrupted Edward;  "prayed  to  our  Lord  to  pardon 
her,  and  rode  on  pitying." 

William's  lip  quivered  with  ire,  yet  he  curbed  the 
reply  that  sprang  to  it,  and  he  looked  with  affection 
genuinely  more  akin  to  admiration  than  scorn,  upon 
his  fellow-prince.  For,  fierce  and  relentless  as  the 
Duke's  deeds  were,  his  faith  was  notably  sincere;  and 
while  this  made,  indeed,  the  prince's  chief  attraction 
to  the  pious  Edward,  so,  on  the  other  hand,  this  bowed 
the  Duke  in  a  kind  of  involuntary  and  superstitious 
homage  to  the  man  who  sought  to  square  deeds  to 
faith.  It  is  ever  the  case  with  stern  and  stormy  spir- 
its, that  the  meek  ones  which  contrast  them  steal 
strangely  into  their  affections.  This  principle  of  hu- 
man nature  can  alone  account  for  the  enthusiastic 
devotion  which  the  mild  sufferings  of  the  Saviow 
awoke  in  the  fiercest  exterminators  of  the  North.  In 
proportion,  often,  to  the  warrior's  ferocity,  was  his 
love  to  that  Divine  model,  at  whose  sufferings  he  wept, 
to  whose  tomb  he  wandered  barefoot,  and  whose  ex- 
ample of  compassionate  forgiveness  he  would  have 
thought  himself  the  basest  of  men  to  follow! 

"  Now,  by  my  halidame,  I  honour  and  love  thee, 
Edward,"  cried  the  Duke,  with  a  heartiness  more 
frank  than  was  usual  to  him :  "  and  were  I  thy  sub- 
ject, woe  to  man  or  woman  that  wagged  tongue  to 
wound  thee  by  a  breath.  But  who  and  what  is  this 
same  Hilda?  one  of  thy  kith  and  kin? — surely  not  less 
than  kingly  blood  runs  so  bold?  " 


HAROLD  19 

"  William,  bicn  aime,"  *  said  the  King,  "  it  is  true 
that  Hilda,  whom  the  saints  assoil,  is  of  kingly  blood, 
though  not  of  our  kingly  line.  It  is  feared,"  added 
Edward,  in  a  timid  whisper,  as  he  cast  a  hurried  glance 
around  him,  "  that  this  unhappy  woman  has  ever  been 
more  addicted  to  the  rites  of  her  pagan  ancestors  than 
to  those  of  Holy  Church;  and  men  do  say  that  she 
hath  thus  acquired  from  fiend  or  charm  secrets  de- 
voutly to  be  eschewed  by  the  righteous.  Nathless, 
let  us  rather  hope  that  her  mind  is  somewhat  dis- 
traught with  her  misfortunes." 

The  King  sighed,  and  the  Duke  sighed  too,  but  the 
Duke's  sigh  spoke  impatience.  He  swept  behind  him 
a  stern  and  withering  look  towards  the  proud  figure 
of  Hilda,  still  seen  through  the  glades,  and  said  in  a 
sinister  voice:  "Of  kingly  blood;  but  this  witch  of 
Woden  hath  no  sons  or  kinsmen,  I  trust,  who  pre- 
tend to  the  throne  of  the  Saxon?" 

"  She  is  sibbe  to  Githa,  wife  of  Godwin,"  answered 
the  King,  "and  that  is  her  most  perilous  connection; 
for  the  banished  Earl,  as  thou  knowest,  did  not  pre- 
tend to  fill  the  throne,  but  he  was  content  with  nought 
less  than  governing  our  people." 

The  King  then  proceeded  to  sketch  an  outline  of 
the  history  of  Hilda,  but  his  narrative  was  so  deformed 
both  by  his  superstitions  and  prejudices,  and  his  im- 
perfect information  in  all  the  leading  events  and  char- 
acters in  his  own  kingdom,  that  we  will  venture  to 
take  upon  ourselves  his  task;  and  while  the  train  ride 

1  The  few  expressions  borrowed  occasionally  from  the  Ro- 
mance tongue,  to  give  individuality  to  the  speaker,  will  gen- 
erally be  translated  into  modern  French ;  for  the  same  reason 
as  Saxon  is  rendered  into  modern  English,  viz.,  that  the  words 
may  be  intelligible  to  the  reader. 


20  HAROLD 

on  through  glade  and  mead,  we  will  briefly  narrate, 
from  -our  own  special  sources  of  knowledge,  the 
chronicle  of  Hilda,  the  Scandinavian  Vala. 


CHAPTER  II 

A  magnificent  race  of  men  were  those  war  sons 
of  the  old  North,  whom  our  popular  histories,  so  su- 
perficial in  their  accounts  of  this  age,  include  in  the 
common  name  of  the  "  Danes."  They  replunged  into 
barbarism  the  nations  over  which  they  swept;  but 
from  that  barbarism  they  reproduced  the  noblest  ele- 
ments of  civilisation.  Swede,  Norwegian,  and  Dane, 
differing  in  some  minor  points,  when  closely  exam- 
ined, had  yet  one  common  character  viewed  at  a  dis- 
tance. They  had  the  same  prodigious  energy,  the 
same  passion  for  freedom,  individual  and  civil,  the 
same  splendid  errors  in  the  thirst  for  fame  and  the 
"  point  of  honour; "  and  above  all,  as  a  main  cause  of 
civilisation,  they  were  wonderfully  pliant  and  malleable 
in  their  admixtures  with  the  peoples  they  overran. 
This  is  their  true  distinction  from  the  stubborn  Celt, 
who  refuses  to  mingle,  and  disdains  to  improve. 

Frankes,  the  archbishop,  baptised  Rolf-ganger:1 
and  within  a  little  more  than  a  century  afterwards, 
the  descendants  of  those  terrible  heathens  who  had 
spared  neither  priest  nor  altar,  were  the  rrlost  redoubt- 
able defenders  of  the  Christian  Church;  their  old  lan- 
guage forgotten  (save  by  a  few  in  the  town  of  Bay- 
eux),  their  ancestral  names 2  (save  among  a  few  of 

1  "  Roman  de  Rou,"  part  i.,  v.  1914. 

2  The  reason  why  the  Normans  lost  their  old  names  is  to  be 
found  in  their  conversion  to  Christianity.     They  were  bap- 
tised;  and  Franks,  as  their  godfathers,  gave  them  new  appel- 


HAROLD  21 

the  noblest)  changed  into  French  titles,  and  little  else 
but  the  indomitable  valour  of  the  Scandinavian  re- 
mained unaltered  amongst  the  arts  and  manners  of 
the  Frankish-Norman. 

In  like  manner  their  kindred  tribes,  who  had  poured 
into  Saxon  England  to  ravage  and  lay  desolate,  had 
no  sooner  obtained  from  Alfred  the  Great  permanent 
homes,  than  they  became  perhaps  the  most  power- 
ful, and  in  a  short  time  not  the  least  patriotic,  part  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  population.1  At  the  time  our  story 
opens,  these  Northmen,  under  the  common  name  of 
Danes,  were  peaceably  settled  in  no  less  than  fifteen  * 
counties  in  England;  their  nobles  abounded  in  towns 
and  cities  beyond  the  boundaries  of  those  counties 

lations.  Thus,  Charles  the  Simple  insists  that  Rolf-ganger 
shall  change  his  law  (creed)  and  his  name,  and  Rolf  or  Rou 
is  christened  Robert.  A  few  of  those  who  retained  Scandi- 
navian names  at  the  time  of  the  Conquest  will  be  cited 
hereafter. 

1  Thus  in  991,  about  a  century  after  the  first  settlement,  the 
Danes  of  East  Anglia  gave  the  only  efficient  resistance  to  the 
host  of  the  Vikings  under  Justin  and  Gurthmund ;   and  Brith- 
noth,  celebrated  by  the  Saxon  poet,  as  a  Saxon  par  excellence, 
the  heroic  defender  of  his  native  soil,  was,  in  all  probability, 
of  Danish  descent.     Mr.  Laing,  in  his  preface  to  his  transla- 
tion of  the  Heimskringla,  truly  observes,  "  that  the  rebellions 
against  William  the  Conqueror,  and  his  successors,  appear  to 
have  been  almost  always  raised,  or  mainly  supported,  in  the 
counties  of  recent  Danish  descent,  not  in  those  peopled  by  the 
old  Anglo-Saxon  race." 

The  portion  of  Mercia,  consisting  of  the  burghs  of  Lan- 
caster, Lincoln,  Nottingham,  Stamford,  and  Derby,  became  a 
Danish  state  in  A.D.  877; — East  Anglia,  consisting  of  Cam- 
bridge, Suffolk,  Norfolk,  and  the  Isle  of  Ely,  in  A.D.  879-80; 
and  the  vast  territory  of  Northumbria,  extending  all  north  the 
Humber,  into  all  that  part  of  Scotland  south  of  the  Frith,  in 
A.D.  876. — See  PALGRAVE'S  Commonwealth.  But  besides  their 
more  allotted  settlements,  the  Danes  were  interspersed  as  land- 
owners all  over  England. 

2  Bromton  Chron. — viz.,  Essex,  Middlesex,  Suffolk,  Norfolk, 
Herts,  Cambridgeshire,  Hants,  Lincoln,  Notts,  Derby,  North- 
ampton,  Leicestershire,  Bucks,   Beds,  and  the  vast   territory 
called  Northumbria. 


22  HAROLD 

which  bore  the  distinct  appellation  of  Danelagh.  They 
were  numerous  in  London:  in  the  precincts  of  which 
they  had  their  own  burial-place,  to  the  chief  municipal 
court  of  which  they  gave  their  own  appellation — the 
Hustings.1  Their  power  in  the  national  assembly  of 
the  Witan  had  decided  the  choice  of  kings.  Thus, 
with  some  differences  of  law  and  dialect,  these  once 
turbulent  invaders  had  amalgamated  amicably  with 
the  native  race.2  And  to  this  day,  the  gentry,  traders, 
and  farmers  of  more  than  one-third  of  England,  and 
in  those  counties  most  confessed  to  be  in  the  van  of 
improvement,  descend  from  Saxon  mothers  indeed, 
but  from  Viking  fathers.  There  was  in  reality  little 
difference  in  race  between  the  Norman  knight  of  the 
time  of  Henry  I.  and  the  Saxon  franklin  of  Norfolk 
and  York.  Both  on  the  mother's  side  would  most 
probably  have  been  Saxon,  both  on  the  father's  would 
have  traced  to  the  Scandinavian. 

But  though  this  character  of  adaptability  was  gen- 
eral, exceptions  in  some  points  were  necessarily  found, 
and  these  were  obstinate  in  proportion  to  the  adher- 
ence to  the  old  pagan  faith,  or  the  sincere  conversion 
to  Christianity.  The  Norwegian  chronicles,  and  pas- 
sages in  our  own  history,  show  how  false  and  hollow 
was  the  assumed  Christianity  of  many  of  these  fierce 
Odin-worshippers.  They  willingly  enough  accepted 
the  outward  sign  of  baptism,  but  the  holy  water 

1  PALGRAVE'S  History  of  England,  p.  315. 

*  The  laws  collected  by  Edward  the  Confessor,  and  in  later 
times  so  often  and  so  fondly  referred  to,  contained  many  in- 
troduced by  the  Danes,  which  had  grown  popular  with  the 
Saxon  people.  Much  which  we  ascribe  to  the  Norman  Con- 
queror, pre-existed  in  the  Anglo-Danish,  and  may  be  found 
both  in  Normandy,  and  parts  of  Scandinavia,  to  this  day. — 
See  HAKEWELI/S  Treatise  on  the  Antiquity  of  Laws  in  this 
Island,  in  HEARNE'S  Curious  Discourses. 


HAROLD  23 

changed  little  of  the  inner  man.  Even  Harold,  the 
son  of  Canute,  scarce  seventeen  years  before  the  date 
we  have  now  entered,  being  unable  to  obtain  from  the 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury — who  had  espoused  the 
cause  of  his  brother  Hardicanute — the  consecrating 
benediction,  lived  and  reigned  as  one  who  had  ab- 
jured Christianity.1 

The  priests,  especially  on  the  Scandinavian  conti- 
nent, were  often  forced  to  compound  with  their  grim 
converts,  by  indulgence  to  certain  habits,  such  as  in- 
discriminate polygamy.  To  eat  horse-flesh  in  honour 
of  Odin,  and  to  marry  wives  ad  libitum,  were  the  main 
stipulations  of  the  neophytes.  And  the  puzzled  monks, 
often  driven  to  a  choice,  yielded  the  point  of  the  wives, 
but  stood  firm  on  the  graver  article  of  the  horse-flesh. 

With  their  new  religion,  very  imperfectly  under- 
stood, even  when  genuinely  received,  they  retained 
all  that  host  of  heathen  superstition  which  knits  itself 
with  the  most  obstinate  instincts  in  the  human  breast. 
Not  many  years  before  the  reign  of  the  Confessor, 
the  laws  of  the  great  Canute  against  witchcraft  and 
charms,  the  worship  of  stones,  fountains,  runes  by  ash 
and  elm,  and  the  incantations  that  do  homage  to  the 
dead,  were  obviously  rather  intended  to  apply  to  the 
recent  Danish  converts,  than  to  the  Anglo-Saxons, 
already  subjugated  for  centuries,  body  and  soul,  to 
the  domination  of  the  Christian  monks. 

Hilda,  a  daughter  of  the  royalty  of  Denmark,  and 
cousin  to  Githa  (niece  to  Canute,  whom  that  king  had 
bestowed  in  second  spousals  upon  Godwin),  had  come 
over  to  England  with  a  fierce  Jarl,  her  husband,  a  year 
after  Canute's  accession  to  the  throne — both  con- 
verted nominally,  both  secret  believers  in  Thor  and 

Odin. 

1  PALGRAVE'S  History  of  England,  p.  322. 


24  HAROLD 

Hilda's  husband  had  fallen  in  one  of  the  actions  in 
the  Northern  seas,  between  Canute  and  St.  Olave, 
King  of  Norway  (that  saint  himself,  by  the  bye,  a 
most  ruthless  persecutor  of  his  forefathers'  faith,  and 
a  most  unqualified  assertor  of  his  heathen  privilege  to 
extend  his  domestic  affections  beyond  the  severe  pale 
which  should  have  confined  them  to  a  single  wife. 
His  natural  son  Magnus  then  sat  on  the  Danish 
throne).  The  Jarl  died  as  he  had  wished  to  die,  the 
last  man  on  board  his  ship,  with  the  soothing  con- 
viction that  the  Valkyrs  would  bear  him  to  Valhalla. 

Hilda  was  left  with  an  only  daughter,  whom  Canute 
bestowed  on  Ethelwolf,  a  Saxon  Earl  of  large  do- 
mains, and  tracing  his  descent  from  Penda,  that  old 
King  of  Mercia  who  refused  to  be  converted,  but  said 
so  discreetly,  that  he  had  no  objection  to  his  neigh- 
bours being  Christians,  if  they  would  practise  that 
peace  and  forgiveness  which  the  monks  told  him  were 
the  elements  of  the  faith. 

Ethelwolf  fell  under  the  displeasure  of  Hardicanute, 
perhaps  because  he  was  more  Saxon  than  Danish;  and 
though  that  savage  king  did  not  dare  openly  to  ar- 
raign him  before  the  Witan,  he  gave  secret  orders  by 
which  he  was  butchered  on  his  own  hearthstone,  in 
the  arms  of  his  wife,  who  died  shortly  afterwards  of 
grief  and  terror.  The  only  orphan  of  this  unhappy 
pair,  Edith,  was  thus  consigned  to  the  charge  of  Hilda. 

It  was  a  necessary  and  invaluable  characteristic  of 
that  "  adaptability "  which  distinguished  the  Danes, 
that  they  transferred  to  the  land  in  which  they  settled 
all  the  love  they  had  borne  to  that  of  their  ancestors; 
and  so  far  as  attachment  to  soil  was  concerned,  Hilda 
had  grown  no  less  in  heart  an  Englishwoman  than  if 
she  had  been  born  and  reared  amidst  the  glades  and 


HAROLD  25 

knolls  from  which  the  smoke  of  her  hearth  rose 
through  the  old  Roman  compluvium. 

But  in  all  else  she  was  a  Dane.  Dane  in  her  creed 
and  her  habits — Dane  in  her  intense  and  brooding  im- 
agination— in  the  poetry  that  filled  her  soul,  peopled 
the  air  with  spectres,  and  covered  the  leaves  of  the 
trees  with  charms.  Living  in  austere  seclusion  after 
the  death  of  her  lord,  to  whom  she  had  borne  a  Scan- 
dinavian woman's  devoted  but  heroic  love, — sorrow- 
ing, indeed,  for  his  death,  but  rejoicing  that  he  fell 
amidst  the  feast  of  ravens, — her  mind  settled  more  and 
more  year  by  year,  and  day  by  day,  upon  those  visions 
of  the  unknown  world,  which  in  every  faith  conjure 
up  the  companions  of  solitude  and  grief. 

Witchcraft  in  the  Scandinavian  North  assumed 
many  forms,  and  was  connected  by  many  degrees. 
There  was  the  old  and  withered  hag,  on  whom,  in  our 
later  mediaeval  ages  the  character  was  mainly  be- 
stowed; there  was  the  terrific  witch-wife,  or  wolf- 
witch,  who  seems  wholly  apart  from  human  birth  and 
attributes,  like  the  weird  sisters  of  Macbeth — creat- 
ures who  entered  the  house  at  night  and  seized  war- 
riors to  devour  them,  who  might  be  seen  gliding  over 
the  sea,  with  the  carcase  of  the  wolf  dripping  blood 
from  their  giant  jaws ;  and  there  was  the  more  serene, 
classical,  and  awful  vala,  or  sibyl,  who,  honoured  by 
chiefs  and  revered  by  nations,  foretold  the  future,  and 
advised  the  deeds  of  heroes.  Of  these  last,  the  Norse 
chronicles  tell  us  much.  They  were  often  of  rank  and 
wealth,  they  were  accompanied  by  trains  of  handmaids 
and  servants — kings  led  them  (when  their  counsel  was 
sought)  to  the  place  of  honour  in  the  hall,  and  their 
heads  were  sacred,  as  those  of  ministers  to  the  gods. 

This  last  state  in  the  grisly  realm  of  the  Wig-laer 


26  HAROLD 

(wizard-lore)  was  the  one  naturally  appertaining  to  the 
high  rank,  and  the  soul,  lofty  though  blind  and  per- 
verted, of  the  daughter  of  warrior-kings.  All  prac- 
tice of  the  art  to  which  now  for  long  years  she  had 
devoted  herself,  that  touched  upon  the  humble  desti- 
nies of  the  vulgar,  the  child  of  Odin  1  haughtily  dis- 
dained. Her  reveries  were  upon  the  fate  of  kings 
and  kingdoms ;  she  aspired  to  save  or  to  rear  the  dy- 
nasties which  should  rule  the  races  yet  unborn.  In 
youth  proud  and  ambitious, — common  faults  with  her 
countrywomen, — on  her  entrance  into  the  darker 
world,  she  carried  with  her  the  prejudices  and  pas- 
sions that  she  had  known  in  that  coloured  by  the  ex- 
ternal sun. 

All  her  human  affections  were  centred  in  her  grand- 
child Edith,  the  last  of  a  race  royal  on  either  side.  Her 
researches  into  the  future  had  assured  her,  that  the 
life  and  death  of  this  fair  child  were  entwined  with  the 
fates  of  a  king,  and  the  same  oracles  had  intimated  a 
mysterious  and  inseparable  connection  between  her 
own  shattered  house  and  the  flourishing  one  of  Earl 
Godwin,  the  spouse  of  her  kinswoman  Githa:  so  that 
with  this  great  family  she  was  as  intimately  bound  by 
the  links  of  superstition  as  by  the  ties  of  blood.  The 
eldest  born  of  Godwin,  Sweyn,  had  been  at  first  espe- 
cially her  care  and  her  favourite;  and  he,  of  more 
poetic  temperament  than  his  brothers,  had  willingly 
submitted  to  her  influence.  But  of  all  the  brethren, 
as  will  be  seen  hereafter,  the  career  of  Sweyn  had  been 
most  noxious  and  ill-omened;  and  at  that  moment, 
while  the  rest  of  the  house  carried  with  it  into  exile 

1  The  name  of  this  god  is  spelt  Odin,  when  referred  to  as 
the  object  of  Scandinavian  worship;  Woden,  when  applied 
directly  to  the  deity  of  the  Saxons. 


HAROLD  27 

the  deep  and  indignant  sympathy  of  England,  no  man 
said  of  Sweyn,  "God  bless  him!" 

But  as  the  second  son,  Harold,  had  grown  from 
childhood  into  youth,  Hilda  had  singled  him  out  with 
a  preference  even  more  marked  than  that  she  had 
bestowed  upon  Sweyn.  The  stars  and  the  runes  as- 
sured her  of  his  future  greatness,  and  the  qualities  and 
talents  of  the  young  Earl  had,  at  the  very  onset  of  his 
career,  confirmed  the  accuracy  of  their  predictions. 
Her  interest  in  Harold  became  the  more  intense,  part- 
ly because  whenever  she  consulted  the  future  for  the 
lot  of  her  grandchild  Edith,  she  invariably  found  it 
associated  with  the  fate  of  Harold — partly  because  all 
her  arts  had  failed  to  penetrate  beyond  a  certain  point 
in  their  joint  destinies,  and  left  her  mind  agitated  and 
perplexed  between  hope  and  terror.  As  yet,  how- 
ever, she  had  wholly  failed  in  gaining  any  ascendancy 
over  the  young  Earl's  vigorous  and  healthful  mind: 
and  though,  before  his  exile,  he  came  more  often  than 
any  of  Godwin's  sons  to  the  old  Roman  house,  he  had 
smiled  with  proud  incredulity  at  her  vague  prophecies, 
and  rejected  all  her  offers  of  aid  from  invisible  agen- 
cies with  the  calm  reply — "  The  brave  man  wants  no 
charms  to  encourage  him  to  his  duty,  and  the  good 
man  scorns  all  warnings  that  would  deter  him  from 
fulfilling  it." 

Indeed,  though  Hilda's  magic  was  not  of  the  malev- 
olent kind,  and  sought  the  source  of  its  oracles  not 
in  fiends  but  gods,  (at  least  the  gods  in  whom  she 
believed,)  it  was  noticeable  that  all  over  whom  her  in- 
fluence had  prevailed  had  come  to  miserable  and  un- 
timely ends; — not  alone  her  husband  and  her  son-in- 
law,  (both  of  whom  had  been  as  wax  to  her  counsel,) 
but  such  other  chiefs  as  rank  or  ambition  permitted 


28  HAROLD 

to  appeal  to  her  lore.  Nevertheless,  such  was  the  as- 
cendancy she  had  gained  over  the  popular  mind,  that 
it  would  have  been  dangerous  in  the  highest  degree 
to  put  into  execution  against  her  the  laws  condemna- 
tory of  witchcraft.  In  her,  all  trie  more  powerful  Dan- 
ish families  reverenced,  and  would  have  protected,  the 
blood  of  their  ancient  kings,  and  the  widow  of  one  of 
their  most  renowned  heroes.  Hospitable,  liberal,  and 
beneficent  to  the  poor,  and  an  easy  mistress  over  nu- 
merous ceorls,  while  the  vulgar  dreaded,  they  would 
yet  have  defended  her.  Proofs  of  her  art  it  would 
have  been  hard  to  establish ;  hosts  of  compurgators  to 
attest  her  innocence  would  have  sprung  up.  Even  if 
subjected  to  the  ordeal,  her  gold  could  easily  have 
bribed  the  priests  with  whom  the  power  of  evading  its 
dangers  rested.  And  with  that  worldly  wisdom  which 
persons  of  genius  in  their  wildest  chimeras  rarely  lack, 
she  had  already  freed  herself  from  the  chance  of  active 
persecution  from  the  Church,  by  ample  donations  to 
all  the  neighbouring  monasteries. 

Hilda,  in  fine,  was  a  woman  of  sublime  desires  and 
extraordinary  gifts;  terrible,  indeed,  but  as  the  passive 
agent  of  the  Fates  she  invoked,  and  rather  command- 
ing for  herself  a  certain  troubled  admiration  and  mys- 
terious pity;  no  fiend-hag,  beyond  humanity  in  malice 
and  in  power,  but  essentially  human,  even  when  aspir- 
ing most  to  the  secrets  of  a  god.  Assuming,  for  the 
moment,  that  by  the  aid  of  intense  imagination,  per- 
sons of  a  peculiar  idiosyncrasy  of  nerves  and  tempera- 
ment might  attain  to  such  dim  affinities  with  a  world 
beyond  our  ordinary  senses,  as  forbid  entire  rejection 
of  the  magnetism  and  magic  of  old  times — it  was  on 
no  foul  and  mephitic  pool,  overhung  with  the  poison- 
ous nightshade,  and  excluded  from  the  beams  of 


HAROLD  29 

heaven,  but  on  the  living  stream  on  which  the  star 
trembled,  and  beside  whose  banks  the  green  herbage 
waved,  that  the  demon  shadows  fell  dark  and  dread. 

Thus  safe  and  thus  awful,  lived  Hilda;  and  under 
her  care,  a  rose  beneath  the  funeral  cedar,  bloomed 
her  grandchild  Edith,  goddaughter  of  the  Lady  of 
England. 

It  was  the  anxious  wish,  both  of  Edward  and  his 
virgin  wife,  pious  as  himself,  to  save  this  orphan  from 
the  contamination  of  a  house  more  than  suspected  of 
heathen  faith,  and  give  to  her  youth  the  refuge  of  the 
convent.  But  this,  without  her  guardian's  consent  or 
her  own  expressed  will,  could  not  be  legally  done;  and 
Edith  as  yet  had  expressed  no  desire  to  disobey  her 
grandmother,  who  treated  the  idea  of  the  convent  with 
lofty  scorn. 

This  beautiful  child  grew  up  under  the  influence, 
as  it  were,  of  two  contending  creeds;  all  her  notions 
on  both  were  necessarily  confused  and  vague.  But 
her  heart  was  so  genuinely  mild,  simple,  tender,  and 
devoted, — there  was  in  her  so  much  of  the  inborn  ex- 
cellence of  the  sex,  that  in  every  impulse  of  that  heart 
struggled  for  clearer  light  and  for  purer  air  the  un- 
quiet soul.  In  manner,  in  thought,  and  in  person  as 
yet  almost  an  infant,  deep  in  her  heart  lay  yet  one 
woman's  secret,  known  scarcely  to  herself,  but  which 
taught  her,  more  powerfully  than  Hilda's  proud  and 
scoffing  tongue,  to  shudder  at  the  thought  of  the  bar- 
ren cloister  and  the  eternal  vow. 


30  HAROLD 


CHAPTER  III 

While  King  Edward  was  narrating  to  the  Norman 
Duke  all  that  he  knew,  and  all  that  he  knew  not,  of 
Hilda's  history  and  secret  arts,  the  road  wound 
through  lands  as  wild  and  wold-like  as  if  the  metrop- 
olis of  England  lay  a  hundred  miles  distant.  Even  to 
this  day  patches  of  such  land,  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  Norwood,  may  betray  what  the  country  was  in  the 
old  time : — when  a  mighty  forest,  "  abounding  with 
wild  beasts  " — "  the  bull  and  the  boar  " — skirted  the 
suburbs  of  London,  and  afforded  pastime  to  king  and 
thegn.  For  the  Norman  kings  have  been  maligned 
by  the  popular  notion  that  assigns  to  them  all  the 
odium  of  the  forest  laws.  Harsh  and  severe  were 
those  laws  in  the  reign  of  the  Anglo-Saxon;  as  harsh 
and  severe,  perhaps,  against  the  ceorl  and  the  poor 
man,  as  in  the  days  of  Rufus,  though  more  mild  un- 
questionably to  the  nobles.  To  all  beneath  the  rank 
of  abbot  and  thegn,  the  king's  woods  were  made,  even 
by  the  mild  Confessor,  as  sacred  as  the  groves  of  the 
Druids:  and  no  less  penalty  than  that  of  life  was  in- 
curred by  the  lowborn  huntsman  who  violated  their 
recesses.1 

Edward's  only  mundane  passion  was  the  chase;  and 
a  day  rarely  passed,  but  what  after  mass  he  went 
forth  with  hawk  or  hound.  So  that,  though  the  regu- 
lar season  for  hawking  did  not  commence  till  October, 
he  had  ever  on  his  wrist  some  young  falcon  to  essay, 
or  some  old  favourite  to  exercise.  And  now,  just  as 
William  was  beginning  to  grow  weary  of  his  good 
cousin's  prolix  recitals,  the  hounds  suddenly  gave 

1  See  Note  (B),  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


HAROLD  31 

tongue,  and  from  a  sedge-grown  pool  by  the  way- 
side, with  solemn  wing  and  harsh  boom,  rose  a  bittern. 
"  Holy  St.  Peter!  "  exclaimed  the  Saint-king,  spur- 
ring his  palfrey,  and  loosing  his  famous  Peregrine  fal- 
con.1 William  was  not  slow  in  following  that  ani- 
mated example,  and  the  whole  company  rode  at  half 
speed  across  the  rough  forest-land,  straining  their 
eyes  upon  the  soaring  quarry,  and  the  large  wheels 
of  the  falcons.  Riding  thus,  with  his  eyes  in  the  air, 
Edward  was  nearly  pitched  over  his  palfrey's  head, 
as  the  animal  stopped  suddenly,  checked  by  a  high 
gate,  set  deep  in  a  half  embattled  wall  of  brick  and 
rubble.  Upon  this  gate  sate,  quite  unmoved  and 
apathetic,  a  tall  ceorl,  or  labourer,  while  behind  it  was 
a  gazing  curious  group  of  men  of  the  same  rank,  clad 
in  those  blue  tunics  of  which  our  peasant's  smock  is 
the  successor,  and  leaning  on  scythes  and  flails.  Sour 
and  ominous  were  the  looks  they  bent  upon  that  Nor- 
man cavalcade.  The  men  were  at  least  as  well  clad 
as  those  of  the  same  condition  are  now;  and  their  ro- 
bust limbs  and  ruddy  cheeks  showed  no  lack  of  the 
fare  that  supports  labour.  Indeed,  the  working  man 
of  that  day,  if  not  one  of  the  absolute  theowes  or 
slaves,  was,  physically  speaking,  better  off,  perhaps, 
than  he  has  ever  since  been  in  England,  more  espe- 
cially if  he  appertained  to  some  wealthy  thegn  of  pure 
Saxon  lineage,  whose  very  title  of  lord  came  to  him 
in  his  quality  of  dispenser  of  bread ; 2  and  these  men 
had  been  ceorls  under  Harold,  son  of  Godwin,  now 
banished  from  the  land. 

1  The  Peregrine  hawk  built  on  the  rocks  of  Llandudno,  and 
this  breed  was  celebrated,  even  to  the  days  of  Elizabeth.    Bur- 
leigh  thanks  one  of  the  Mostyns  for  a  cast  of  hawks  from 
Llandudno. 

2  Hlaf,  loaf, — Hlaford,  lord,  giver  of  bread ;   Hleafdian,  lady, 
server  of  bread. — VERSTEGAN. 


32  HAROLD 

"  Open  the  gate,  open  quick,  my  merry  men,"  said 
the  gentle  Edward  (speaking  in  Saxon,  though  with 
a  strong  foreign  accent),  after  he  had  recovered  his 
seat,  murmured  a  benediction,  and  crossed  himself 
three  times.  The  men  stirred  not. 

"  No  horse  tramps  the  seeds  we  have  sown  for  Har- 
old the  Earl  to  reap ;  "  said  the  ceorl,  doggedly,  still 
seated  on  the  gate.  And  the  group  behind  him  gave 
a  shout  of  applause. 

Moved  more  than  ever  he  had  been  known  to  be 
before,  Edward  spurred  his  steed  up  to  the  boor,  and 
lifted  his  hand.  At  that  signal  twenty  swords  flashed 
in  the  air  behind,  as  the  Norman  nobles  spurred  to  the 
place.  Putting  back  with  one  hand  his  fierce  attend- 
ants, Edward  shook  the  other  at  the  Saxon.  "  Knave, 
knave,"  he  cried,  "  I  would  hurt  you,  if  I  could!  " 

There  was  something  in  these  words,  fated  to  drift 
down  into  history,  at  once  ludicrous  and  touching. 
The  Normans  saw  them  only  in  the  former  light,  and 
turned  aside  to  conceal  their  laughter;  the  Saxon  felt 
them  in  the  latter  and  truer  sense,  and  stood  rebuked. 
That  great  king,  whom  he  now  recognised,  with  all 
those  drawn  swords  at  his  back,  could  not  do  him 
hurt;  that  king  had  not  the  heart  to  hurt  him.  The 
ceorl  sprang  from  the  gate,  and  opened  it,  bending 
low. 

"  Ride  first,  Count  William,  my  cousin,"  said  the 
King,  calmly. 

The  Saxon  ceorl's  eyes  glared  as  he  heard  the  Nor- 
man's name  uttered  in  the  Norman  tongue,  but  he 
kept  open  the  gate,  and  the  train  passed  through,  Ed- 
ward lingering  last  Then  said  the  King,  in  a  low 
voice, — 

"  Bold  man,  thou  spokest  of  Harold  the  Earl  and 


HAROLD  33 

his  harvests;  knowest  thou  not  that  his  lands  have 
passed  from  him,  and  that  he  is  outlawed,  and  that  his 
harvests  are  not  for  the  scythes  of  his  ceorls  to  reap?  " 

"  May  it  please  you,  dread  Lord  and  King,"  replied 
the  Saxon  simply,  "  these  lands  that  were  Harold  the 
Earl's,  are  now  Clapa's,  the  sixhaendman's." 

"How  is  that?"  quoth  Edward,  hastily;  "we  gave 
them  neither  to  sixhaendman  nor  to  Saxon.  All  the 
lands  of  Harold  hereabout  were  divided  amongst 
sacred  abbots  and  noble  chevaliers — Normans  all." 

"  Fulke  the  Norman  had  these  fair  fields,  yon  or- 
chards and  tynen;  Fulke  sold  them  to  Clapa,  the  Earl's 
sixhaendman,  and  what  in  mancusses  and  pence  Clapa 
lacked  of  the  price,  we,  the  ceorls  of  the  Earl,  made 
up  from  our  own  earnings  in  the  Earl's  noble  service. 
And  this  very  day,  in  token  thereof,  have  we  quaffed 
the  bedden-ale.1  Wherefore,  please  God  and  our 
Lady,  we  hold  these  lands  part  and  parcel  with  Clapa; 
and  when  Earl  Harold  comes  again,  as  come  he  will, 
here  at  least  he  will  have  his  own." 

Edward,  who,  despite  a  singular  simplicity  of  char- 
acter, which  at  times  seemed  to  border  on  imbecility, 
was  by  no  means  wanting  in  penetration  when  his  at- 
tention was  fairly  roused,  changed  countenance  at  this 
proof  of  rough  and  homely  affection  on  the  part  of 
these  men  to  his  banished  earl  and  brother-in-law. 
He  mused  a  little  while  in  grave  thought,  and  then 
said,  kindly — 

"  Well,  man,  I  think  not  the  worse  of  you  for  loyal 
love  to  your  thegn,  but  there  are  those  who  would  do 

1  Bedden-ale.  When  any  man  was  set  up  in  his  estate  by 
the  contributions  of  his  friends,  those  friends  were  bid  to  a 
feast,  and  the  ale  so  drunk  was  called  the  bedden-ale,  from 
bedden,  to  pray,  or  to  bid.  (See  BRAND'S  Pop.  Antiq.) 

VOL.  I.— 3 


34  HAROLD 

so,  and  I  advise  you,  brotherlike,  that  ears  and  nose 
are  in  peril  if  thou  talkest  thus  indiscreetly." 

"  Steel  to  steel,  and  hand  to  hand,"  said  the  Saxon, 
bluntly,  touching  the  long  knife  in  his  leathern  belt, 
"  and  he  who  sets  gripe  on  Sexwolf  son  of  Elfhelm, 
shall  pay  his  weregeld  twice  over." 

"  Forewarned,  foolish  man,  thou  art  forewarned. 
Peace,"  said  the  King;  and,  shaking  his  head,  he  rode 
on  to  join  the  Normans,  who  now,  in  a  broad  field, 
where  the  corn  sprang  green,  and  which  they  seemed 
to  delight  in  wantonly  trampling,  as  they  curvetted 
their  steeds  to  and  fro,  watched  the  movements  of  the 
bittern  and  the  pursuit  of  the  two  falcons. 

"A  wager,  Lord  King!"  said  a  prelate,  whose 
strong  family  likeness  to  William  proclaimed  him  to 
be  the  Duke's  bold  and  haughty  brother,  Odo,1  Bishop 
of  Bayeux; — "a  wager.  My  steed  to  your  palfrey 
that  the  Duke's  falcon  first  fixes  the  bittern." 

"  Holy  father,"  answered  Edward,  in  that  slight 
change  of  voice  which  alone  showed  his  displeasure, 
"  these  wagers  all  savour  of  heathenesse,  and  our  can- 
ons forbid  them  to  mone  2  and  priest.  Go  to,  it  is 
naught." 

The  bishop,  who  brooked  no  rebuke,  even  from  his 
terrible  brother,  knit  his  brows,  and  was  about  to 
make  no  gentle  rejoinder,  when  William,  whose  pro- 
found craft  or  sagacity  was  always  at  watch,  lest  his 
followers  should  displease  the  King,  interposed,  and 
taking  the  word  out  of  the  prelate's  mouth,  said: 

"  Thou  reprovest  us  well,  Sir  and  King;  we  Nor- 

1  Herleve  (Arlotta),  William's  mother,  married  Herluin  de 
Conteville,  after  the  death  of  Duke  Robert,  and  had  by  him 
two  sons,  Robert,  Count  of  Mortain,  and  Odo,  Bishop  of  Bay- 
eux.— ORD.  VITAL,  lib.  vii. 

2  Mone,  monk. 


HAROLD  35 

mans  are  too  inclined  to  such  levities.  And  see,  your 
falcon  is  first  in  pride  of  place.  By  the  bones  of  St. 
Valery,  how  nobly  he  towers!  See  him  cover  the  bit- 
tern!— see  him  rest  on  the  wing! — Down  he  swoops! 
Gallant  bird!" 

"  With  his  heart  split  in  two  on  the  bittern's  bill," 
said  the  bishop;  and  down,  rolling  one  over  the  other, 
fell  bittern  and  hawk,  while  William's  Norway  falcon, 
smaller  of  size  than  the  King's,  descended  rapidly,  and 
hovered  over  the  two.  Both  were  dead. 

"I  accept  the  omen,"  muttered  the  gazing  Duke; 
"  let  the  natives  destroy  each  other!  "  He  placed  his 
whistle  to  his  lips,  and  his  falcon  flew  back  to  his 
wrist. 

"  Now  home,"  said  King  Edward. 


CHAPTER  IV 

The  royal  party  entered  London  by  the  great  bridge 
which  divided  Southwark  from  the  capital;  and  we 
must  pause  to  gaze  a  moment  on  the  animated  scene 
which  the  immemorial  thoroughfare  presented. 

The  whole  suburb  before  entering  Southwark  was 
rich  in  orchards  and  gardens,  lying  round  the  de- 
tached houses  of  the  wealthier  merchants  and  citizens. 
Approaching  the  river-side,  to  the  left,  the  eye  might 
see  the  two  circular  spaces  set  apart,  the  one  for  bear, 
the  other  for  bull-baiting.  To  the  right,  upon  a  green 
mound  of  waste,  within  sight  of  the  populous  bridge, 
the  gleemen  were  exercising  their  art.  Here  one 
dexterous  juggler  threw  three  balls  and  three  knives 
alternately  in  the  air,  catching  them  one  by  one  as 


36  HAROLD 

they  fell.1  There,  another  was  gravely  leading  a  great 
bear  to  dance  on  its  hind  legs,  while  his  coadjutor  kepf 
time  with  a  sort  of  flute  or  flageolet.  The  lazy  by- 
standers, in  great  concourse,  stared  and  laughed;  but 
the  laugh  was  hushed  at  the  tramp  of  the  Norman 
steeds;  and  the  famous  Count  by  the  King's  side,  as, 
with  a  smiling  lip,  but  observant  eye,  he  rode  along, 
drew  all  attention  from  the  bear. 

On  now  approaching  that  bridge  which,  not  many 
years  before,  had  been  the  scene  of  terrible  contest 
between  the  invading  Danes  and  Ethelred's  ally, 
Olave  of  Norway,2  you  might  still  see,  though  neg- 
lected and  already  in  decay,  the  double  fortifications 
that  had  wisely  guarded  that  vista  into  the  city.  On 
both  sides  of  the  bridge,  which  was  of  wood,  were 
forts,  partly  of  timber,  partly  of  stone,  and  breast- 
works, and  by  the  forts  a  little  chapel.  The  bridge, 
broad  enough  to  admit  two  vehicles  abreast,3  was 
crowded  with  passengers,  and  lively  with  stalls  and 
booths.  Here  was  the  favourite  spot  of  the  popular 
ballad-singer.*  Here,  too,  might  be  seen  the  swarthy 
Saracen,  with  wares  from  Spain  and  Afric.5  Here, 

1  STRUTT'S  Horda. 

2  There  is  an  animated  description  of  this  "  Battle  of  Lon- 
don Bridge,"  which  gave  ample  theme  to  the  Scandinavian 
scalds,  in  Snorro  SturTeson: 

"  London  Bridge  is  broken  down ; 
Gold  is  won  and  bright  renown; 
Shields  resounding, 
War-horns  sounding, 
Hildur  shouting  in  the  din, 
Arrows  singing, 
Mail- coats  ringing, 
Odin  makes  our  Olaf  win." 

LAING'S  Heimskringla,  vol.  ii.  p.  10. 
8  Sharon  Turner. 
4  Hawkins,  vol.  ii.  p.  94. 

8  Doomsday  makes  mention  of  the  Moors,  and  the  Germans 
'(the  Emperor's  merchants)  that,  were  sojourners  or  settlers 


HAROLD  37 

the  German  merchant  from  the  Steel-yard  swept  along 
on  his  way  to  his  suburban  home.  Here,  on  some  holy 
office,  went  quick  the  muffled  monk.  Here,  the  city 
gallant  paused  to  laugh  with  the  country  girl,  her  bas- 
ket full  of  May-boughs  and  cowslips.  In  short,  all  be- 
spoke that  activity,  whether  in  business  or  pastime, 
which  was  destined  to  render  that  city  the  mart  of  the 
world,  and  which  had  already  knit  the  trade  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  to  the  remoter  corners  of  commercial 
Europe.  The  deep  dark  eye  of  William  dwelt  admir- 
ingly on  the  bustling  groups,  on  the  broad  river,  and 
the  forest  of  masts  which  rose  by  the  indented  marge 
near  Belin's  gate.1  And  he  to  whom,  whatever  his 
faults,  or  rather  crimes,  to  the  unfortunate  people  he 
not  only  oppressed  but  deceived — London  at  least 
may  yet  be  grateful,  not  only  for  chartered  franchise," 
but  for  advancing,  in  one  short  vigorous  reign,  her 
commerce  and  wealth,  beyond  what  centuries  of 
Anglo-Saxon  domination,  with  its  inherent  feebleness, 
had  effected,  exclaimed  aloud: 

in  London.  The  Saracens  at  that  time  were  among  the  great 
merchants  of  the  world ;  Marseilles,  Aries,  Avignon,  Mont- 
pellier,  Toulouse,  were  the  wonted  etapes  of  their  active 
traders.  What  civilisers,  what  teachers  they  were — those  same 
Saracens !  How  much  in  arms  and  in  arts  we  owe  them ! 
Fathers  of  the  Provencal  poetry  they,  far  more  than  even  the 
Scandinavian  scalds,  have  influenced  the  literature  of  Chris- 
tian Europe.  The  most  ancient  chronicle  of  the  Cid  was  written 
in  Arabic,  a  little  before  the  Cid's  death,  by  two  of  his  pages, 
who  were  Mussulmans.  The  medical  science  of  the  Moors  for 
six  centuries  enlightened  Europe,  and  their  metaphysics  were 
adopted  in  nearly  all  the  Christian  universities. 

1  Billingsgate.     See  Note  (C),  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 

2  London  received  a  charter  from  William  at  the  instigation 
of  the  Norman  Bishop  of  London ;    but  it  probably  only  con- 
firmed the  previous  municipal  constitution,  since  it  says  briefly, 
"  I  grant  you  all  to  be  as  law-worthy  as  ye  were  in  the  days 
of  King  Edward."    The  rapid  increase,  however,  of  the  com- 
mercial  prosperity  and  political   importance  of  London  after 
the   Conquest,   is   attested   in   many  chronicles,   and  becomes 
strikingly  evident  even  on  the  surface  of  history. 


38  HAROLD 

"  By  rood  and  mass,  O  dear  king,  thy  lot  hath  fallen 
on  a  goodly  heritage." 

"Hem!"  said  Edward,  lazily;  "  thou  knowest  not 
how  troublesome  these  Saxons  are.  And  while  thou 
speakest,  lo,  in  yon  shattered  walls,  built  first,  they 
say,  by  Alfred  of  holy  memory,  are  the  evidences  of 
the  Danes.  Bethink  thee  how  often  they  have  sailed 
up  this  river.  How  know  I  but  what  the  next  year 
the  raven  flag  may  stream  over  these  waters?  Magnus 
of  Denmark  hath  already  claimed  my  crown  as  heir 
to  the  royalties  of  Canute,  and"  (here  Edward  hesi- 
tated), "  Godwin  and  Harold,  whom  alone  of  my  thegns 
Dane  and  Northman  fear,  are  far  away." 

"  Miss  not  them,  Edward,  my  cousin,"  cried  the 
Duke,  in  haste.  "  Send  for  me  if  danger  threat  thee. 
Ships  enow  await  thy  hest  in  my  new  port  of  Cher- 
bourg. And  I  tell  thee  this  for  thy  comfort,  that  were 
I  king  of  the  English,  and  lord  of  this  river,  the  citi- 
zens of  London  might  sleep  from  vespers  to  prime, 
without  fear  of  the  Dane.  Never  again  should  the 
raven  flag  be  seen  by  this  bridge!  Never,  I  swear,  by 
the  Splendour  Divine." 

Not  without  purpose  spoke  William  thus  stoutly; 
and  he  turned  on  the  King  those  glittering  eyes  (mi- 
cantes  oculos),  which  the  chroniclers  have  praised  and 
noted.  For  it  was  his  hope  and  his  aim  in  this  visit, 
that  his  cousin  Edward  should  formally  promise  him 
that  goodly  heritage  of  England.  But  the  King  made 
no  rejoinder,  and  they  now  neared  the  end  of  the 
bridge. 

"  What  old  ruin  looms  yonder?  " *  asked  William, 

1  There  seems  good  reason  for  believing  that  a  keep  did 
stand  where  the  Tower  stands,  before  the  Conquest,  and  that 
William's  edifice  spared  some  of  its  remains.  In  the  very  in- 
teresting letter  from  John  Bayford  relating  to  the  city  of  Lon- 


HAROLD  39 

hiding  his  disappointment  at  Edward's  silence ;  "  it 
seemeth  the  remains  of  some  stately  keape,  which,  by 
its  fashion,  I  should  pronounce  Roman." 

"Ay!"  said  Edward,  "and  it  is  said  to  have  been 
built  by  the  Romans;  and  one  of  the  old  Lombard 
freemasons  employed  on  my  new  palace  of  Westmin- 
ster, giveth  that,  and  some  others  in  my  domain,  the 
name  of  the  Juillet  Tower." 

"  Those  Romans  were  our  masters  in  all  things  gal- 
lant and  wise,"  said  William ;  "  and  I  predict  that,  some 
day  or  other,  on  that  site,  a  King  of  England  will  re- 
erect  palace  and  tower.  And  yon  castle  towards  the 
west?  " 

"  Is  the  Tower  Palatine,  where  our  predecessors 
have  lodged,  and  ourself  sometimes;  but  the  sweet 
loneliness  of  Thorney  Isle  pleaseth  me  more  now." 

Thus  talking,  they  entered  London,  a  rude,  dark 
city,  built  mainly  of  timbered  houses;  streets  narrow 
and  winding;  windows  rarely  glazed,  but  protected 
chiefly  by  linen  blinds;  vistas  opening,  however,  at 
times  into  broad  spaces,  round  the  various  convents, 
where  green  trees  grew  up  behind  low  palisades.  Tall 
roods,  and  holy  images,  to  which  we  owe  the  names 
of  existing  thoroughfares  (Rood-lane  and  Lady- 
lane  J),  where  the  ways  crossed,  attracted  the  curious 
and  detained  the  pious.  Spires  there  were  not  then, 
but  blunt,  cone-headed  turrets,  pyramidal,  denoting 
the  Houses  of  God,  rose  often  from  the  low,  thatched, 

don  (Lei.  Collect.  Iviii.),  the  writer,  a  thorough  master  of  his 
subject,  states  that  "  the  Romans  made  a  public  military  way, 
that  of  Watling  Street,  from  the  Tower  to  Ludgate,  in  a 
straight  line,  at  the  end  of  which  they  built  stations  or  citadels, 
one  of  which  was  where  the  White  Tower  now  stands."  Bay- 
ford  adds  that  "  when  the  White  Tower  was  fitted  up  for  the 
reception  of  records,  there  remained  many  Saxon  inscriptions." 
1  Rude-lane.  Lad-lane. — BAYFORD. 


40  HAROLD 

and  reeded  roofs.  But  every  now  and  then,  a  schol- 
ar's, if  not  an  ordinary,  eye  could  behold  the  relics  of 
Roman  splendour,  traces  of  that  elder  city  which  now 
lies  buried  under  our  thoroughfares,  and  of  which, 
year  by  year,  are  dug  up  the  stately  skeletons. 

Along  the  Thames  still  rose,  though  much  mutilat- 
ed, the  wall  of  Constantine.1  Round  the  humble  and 
barbarous  Church  of  St.  Paul's  (wherein  lay  the  dust 
of  Sebba,  that  king  of  the  East  Saxons  who  quitted 
his  throne  for  the  sake  of  Christ,  and  of  Edward's 
feeble  and  luckless  father,  Ethelred)  might  be  seen, 
still  gigantic  in  decay,  the  ruins  of  the  vast  temple  of 
Diana.2  Many  a  church,  and  many  a  convent,  pierced 
their  mingled  brick  and  timber  work  with  Roman  cap- 
ital and  shaft.  Still  by  the  tower,  to  which  was  after- 
wards given  the  Saracen  name  of  Barbican,  were  the 
wrecks  of  the  Roman  station,  Vvhere  cohorts  watched 
night  and  day,  in  case  of  fire  within  or  foe  without.8 

In  a  niche,  near  the  Aldersgate,  stood  the  headless 
statue'of  Fortitude,  which  monks  and  pilgrims  deemed 
some  unknown  saint  in  the  old  time,  and  halted  to 
honour.  And  in  the  midst  of  Bishopsgate-street,  sate 
on  his  desecrated  throne  a  mangled  Jupiter,  his  eagle 
at  his  feet.  Many  a  half-converted  Dane  there  lin- 
gered, and  mistook  the  Thunderer  and  the  bird  for 
Odin  and  his  hawk.  By  Leod-gate  (the  People's 
gate*)  still  too  were  seen  the  arches  of  one  of  those 
mighty  aqueducts  which  the  Roman  learned  from  the 
Etrurian.  And  close  by  the  Still-yard,  occupied  by 
"  the  Emperor's  cheap  men  "  (the  German  merchants), 
stood,  almost  entire,  the  Roman  temple,  extant  in  the 

1  Fitzstephen.  *  Camden. 

3  BAYFORD,  Lelanfs  Collectanea,  p.  Ivifi. 

*  Ludgate  (  Leod-gate  ) . — VERSTECAK. 


HAROLD  41 

time  of  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth.  Without  the  walls, 
the  old  Roman  vineyards  l  still  put  forth  their  green 
leaves  and  crude  clusters,  in  the  plains  of  East  Smith- 
field,  in  the  fields  of  St.  Giles's,  and  on  the  site  where 
now  stands  Hatton  Garden.  Still  massere  2  and  cheap- 
men  chaffered  and  bargained,  at  booth  and  stall,  in 
Mart-lane,  where  the  Romans  had  bartered  before 
them.  With  every  encroachment  on  new  soil,  within 
the  walls  and  without,  urn,  vase,  weapon,  human  bones, 
were  shovelled  out,  and  lay  disregarded  amidst  heaps 
of  rubbish. 

Not  on  such  evidences  of  the  past  civilisation  looked 
the  practical  eye  of  the  Norman  Count ;  not  on  things, 
but  on  men,  looked  he;  and  as  silently  he  rode  on  from 
street  to  street,  out  of  those  men,  stalwart  and  tall, 
busy,  active,  toiling,  the  Man-Ruler  saw  the  Civilisa- 
tion that  was  to  come. 

So,  gravely  through  the  small  city,  and  over  the 
bridge  that  spanned  the  little  river  of  the  Fleet,  rode 
the  train  along  the  Strand;  to  the  left,  smooth  sands; 
to  the  right,  fair  pastures  below  green  holts,  thinly 
studded  with  houses;  over  numerous  cuts  and  inlets 
running  into  the  river,  rode  they  on.  •  The  hour  and 
the  season  were  those  in  which  youth  enjoyed  its  holi- 
day, and  gay  groups  resorted  to  the  then  s  fashionable 
haunts  of  the  Fountain  of  Holywell,  "  streaming  forth 
among  glistening  pebbles." 

So  they  gained  at  length  the  village  of  Charing, 
which  Edward  had  lately  bestowed  on  his  Abbey  of 
Westminster,  and  which  was  now  filled  with  work- 
men, native  and  foreign,  employed  on  that  edifice  and 

1  See  Note  (D),  at  the  end  of  the  volume, 

*  Massere,  merchant,  mercer. 

*  Fitz  Stephen. 


42  HAROLD 

the  contiguous  palace.  Here  they  loitered  awhile  at 
the  Mews1  (where  the  hawks  were  kept),  passed  by 
the  rude  palace  of  stone  and  rubble,  appropriated  to 
the  tributary  kings  of  Scotland  2 — a  gift  from  Edgar 
to  Kenneth — and  finally,  reaching  the  inlet  of  the 
river,  which,  winding  round  the  Isle  of  Thorney  (now 
Westminster),  separated  the  rising  church,  abbey,  and 
palace  of  the  Saint-king  from  the  main-land,  dis- 
mounted— and  were  ferried  across  8  the  narrow  stream 
to  the  broad  space  round  the  royal  residence. 


CHAPTER  V 

The  new  palace  of  Edward  the  Confessor,  the  palace 
of  Westminster,  opened  its  gates,  to  receive  the  Saxon 
King  and  the  Norman  Duke,  remounting  on  the  mar- 
gin of  the  isle,  and  now  riding  side  by  side.  And  as 
the  Duke  glanced,  from  brows  habitually  knit,  first 
over  the  pile,  stately,  though  not  yet  completed,  with 
its  long  rows  of  round  arched  windows,  cased  by  in- 
dented fringes  and  fraet  (or  tooth)  work,  its  sweep  of 
solid  columns  with  circling  cloisters,  and  its  ponder- 
ous towers  of  simple  grandeur;  then  over  the  groups 
of  courtiers,  with  close  vests,  and  short  mantles,  and 
beardless  cheeks,  that  filled  up  the  wide  space,  to  gaze 
in  homage  on  the  renowned  guest,  his  heart  swelled 
within  him,  and,  checking  his  rein,  he  drew  near  to  his 
brother  of  Bayeux,  and  whispered, — 

1  Meuse.     Apparently  rather  a  hawk  hospital,   from  Muta 
(Camden).     Du   Fresne,   in   his   Glossary,   says,  Muta    is  in 
French  Le  Meue,  and  a  disease  to  which  the  hawk  was  sub- 
ject on  changing  its  feathers. 

2  Scotland-yard. — STRYPE. 

3  The  first  bridge  that  connected  Thorney  Isle  with  the  main- 
land is  said  to  have  been  built  by  Matilda,  wife  of  Henry  I. 


HAROLD  43 

"  Is  not  this  already  the  court  of  the  Norman?  Be- 
hold yon  nobles  and  earls,  how  they  mimic  our  garb! 
behold  the  very  stones  in  yon  gate,  how  they  range 
themselves,  as  if  carved  by  the  hand  of  the  Norman 
mason!  Verily  and  indeed,  brother,  the  shadow  of 
the  rising  sun  rests  already  on  these  halls." 

"  Had  England  no  people,"  said  the  bishop,  "  Eng- 
land were  yours  already.  But  saw  you  not,  as  we 
rode  along,  the  lowering  brows?  and  heard  you  not 
the  angry  murmurs  ?  The  villeins  are  many,  and  their 
hate  is  strong." 

"Strong  is  the  roan  I  bestride,"  said  the  Duke; 
"  but  a  bold  rider  curbs  it  with  the  steel  of  the  bit,  and 
guides  it  with  the  goad  of  the  heel." 

And  now,  as  they  neared  the  gate,  a  band  of  min- 
strels in  the  pay  of  the  Norman  touched  their  instru- 
ments, and  woke  their  song — the  household  song  of 
the  Norman — the  battle  hymn  of  Roland,  the  Paladin 
of  Charles  the  Great.  At  the  first  word  of  the  song, 
the  Norman  knights  and  youths  profusely  scattered 
amongst  the  Normanised  Saxons  caught  up  the  lay, 
and  with  sparkling  eyes,  and  choral  voices,  they  wel- 
comed the  mighty  Duke  into  the  palace  of  the  last 
meek  successor  of  Woden. 

By  the  porch  of  the  inner  court  the  Duke  flung  him- 
self from  his  saddle,  and  held  the  stirrup  for  Edward 
to  dismount.  The  King  placed  his  hand  gently  on  his 
guest's  broad  shoulder,  and,  having  somewhat  slowly 
reached  the  ground,  embraced  and  kissed  him  in  the 
sight  of  the  gorgeous  assemblage ;  then  led  him  by  the 
hand  towards  the  fair  chamber  which  was  set  apart  for 
the  Duke,  and  so  left  him  to  his  attendants. 

William,  lost  in  thought,  suffered  himself  to  be  dis- 
robed in  silence;  but  when  Fitzosborne,  his  favourite 


44  HAROLD 

confidant  and  haughtiest  baron,  who  yet  deemed  him- 
self but  honoured  by  personal  attendance  on  his  chief, 
conducted  him  towards  the  bath,  which  adjoined  the 
chamber,  he  drew  back,  and  wrapping  round  him  more 
closely  the  gown  of  fur  that  had  been  thrown  over  his 
shoulders,  he  muttered  low, — "  Nay,  if  there  be  on  me 
yet  one  speck  of  English  dust,  let  it  rest  there! — seizin, 
Fitzosborne,  seizin,  of  the  English  land."  Then,  wav- 
ing his  hand,  he  dismissed  all  his  attendants  except 
Fitzosborne,  and  Rolf,  Earl  of  Hereford,1  nephew  to 
Edward,  but  French  on  the  father's  side,  and  thor- 
oughly in  the  Duke's  councils.  Twice  the  Duke  paced 
the  chamber  without  vouchsafing  a  word  to  either, 
then  paused  by  the  round  window  that  overlooked  the 
Thames.  The  scene  was  fair;  the  sun,  towards  its  de- 
cline, glittered  on  numerous  small  pleasure-boats, 
which  shot  to  and  fro  between  Westminster  and  Lon- 
don or  towards  the  opposite  shores  of  Lambeth.  His 
eye  sought  eagerly,  along  the  curves  of  the  river,  the 
grey  remains  of  the  fabled  Tower  of  Julius,  and  the 
walls,  gates,  and  turrets,  that  rose  by  the  stream,  or 
above  the  dense  mass  of  silent  roofs;  then  it  strained 
hard  to  descry  the  tops  of  the  more  distant  masts  of 
the  infant  navy,  fostered  under  Alfred,  the  far-seeing, 
for  the  future  civilisation  of  wastes  unknown,  and  the 
empire  of  seas  untracked. 

The  Duke  breathed  hard,  and  opened  and  closed  the 
hand  which  he  stretched  forth  into  space  as  if  to  grasp 
the  city  he  beheld.  "  Rolf,"  said  he,  abruptly,  "  thou 
knowest,  no  doubt,  the  wealth  of  the  London  traders, 
one  and  all;  for,  foi  de  Guillaume,  my  gentil  chevalier, 

1  We  give  him  that  title,  which  this  Norman  noble  generally 
bears  in  the  Chronicles,  though  Palgrave  observes  that  he  is 
rather  to  be  styled  Earl  of  the  Magesetan  (the  Welch  Marches). 


HAROLD  45 

thou  art  a  true  Norman,  and  scentest  the  smell  of  gold 
as  a  hound  the  boar!  " 

Rolf  smiled,  as  if  pleased  with  a  compliment  which 
simpler  men  might  have  deemed,  at  the  best,  equivo- 
cal, and  replied: 

"  It  is  true,  my  liege ;  and  gramercy,  the  air  of  Eng- 
land sharpens  the  scent;  for  in  this  villein  and  motley 
country,  made  up  of  all  races, — Saxon  and  Fin,  Dane 
and  Fleming,  Pict  and  Walloon, — it  is  not  as  with  us, 
where  the  brave  man  and  the  pure  descent  are  held 
chief  in  honour:  here,  gold  and  land  are,  in  truth,  name 
and  lordship;  even  their  popular  name  for  their  na- 
tional assembly  of  the  Witan  is,  '  The  Wealthy.' l  He 
who  is  but  a  ceorl  to-day,  let  him  be  rich,  and  he  may 
be  earl  to-morrow,  marry  in  king's  blood,  and  rule 
armies  under  a  gonfanon  statelier  than  a  king's ;  while 
he  whose  fathers  were  ealdermen  and  princes,  if,  by 
force  or  by  fraud,  by  waste  or  by  largess,  he  become 
poor,  falls  at  once  into  contempt,  and  out  of  his  state, 
— sinks  into  a  class  they  call  '  six-hundred  men,'  in 
their  barbarous  tongue,  and  his  children  will  prob- 
ably sink  still  lower,  into  ceorls.  Wherefore  gold  is 
the  thing  here  most  coveted;  and  by  St.  Michael,  the 
sin  is  infectious." 

William  listened  to  the  speech  with  close  attention. 

"  Good,"  said  he,  rubbing  slowly  the  palm  of  his 
right  hand  over  the  back  of  the  left ;  "  a  land  all  com- 
pact with  the  power  of  one  race,  a  race  of  conquering 
men,  as  our  fathers  were,  whom  nought  but  cowardice 
or  treason  can  degrade, — such  a  land,  O  Rolf  of  Here- 
ford, it  were  hard  indeed  to  subjugate,  or  decoy,  or 
tame—" 

"  So  has  my  lord  the  Duke  found  the  Bretons;  and 
1  Eadigan. — S.  TURNEA,  vol.  i.  p.  274. 


46  HAROLD 

so  also  do  I  find  the  Welch  upon  my  marches  of  Here- 
ford." 

"  But,"  continued  William,  not  heeding  the  inter- 
ruption, "  where  wealth  is  more  than  blood  and  race, 
chiefs  may  be  bribed  or  menaced;  and  the  multitude 
— by'r  Lady,  the  multitude  are  the  same  in  all  lands, 
mighty  under  valiant  and  faithful  leaders,  powerless 
as  sheep  without  them.  But  to  my  question,  my  gen- 
tle Rolf;  this  London  must  be  rich?  " 1 

"  Rich  enow,"  answered  Rolf,  "  to  coin  into  armed 
men,  that  should  stretch  from  Rouen  to  Flanders  on 
the  one  hand,  and  Paris  on  the  other." 

"  In  the  veins  of  Matilda,  whom  thou  wooest  for 
wife,"  said  Fitzosborne,  abruptly,  "  flows  the  blood  of 
Charlemagne.  God  grant  his  empire  to  the  children 
she  shall  bear  thee!  " 

The  Duke  bowed  his  head,  and  kissed  a  relic  sus- 
pended from  his  throat.  Farther  sign  of  approval  of 
his  counsellor's  words  he  gave  not,  but  after  a  pause, 
he  said: 

"  When  I  depart,  Rolf,  thou  wendest  back  to  thy 
marches.  These  Welch  are  brave  and  fierce,  and 
shape  work  enow  for  thy  hands." 

"  Ay,  by  my  halidame !  poor  sleep  by  the  side  of  the 
beehive  you  have  stricken  down." 

"  Marry,  then,"  said  William,  "  let  the  Welch  prey 
on  Saxon,  Saxon  on  Welch;  let  neither  win  too  easily. 
Remember  our  omens  to-day,  Welch  hawk  and  Saxon 
bittern,  and  over  their  corpses,  Duke  William's  Nor- 
way falcon !  Now  dress  we  for  the  complin  2  and  the 
banquet." 

1  The  comparative  wealth  of  London  was  indeed  consider- 
able.    When,  in  1018,  all  the  rest  of  England  was  taxed  to  an 
amount    considered    stupendous,   viz.,    71,000   Saxon    pounds, 
London  contributed  11,000  pounds  besides.. 

2  Complin,  the  second  vespers. 


BOOK    II 

LANFRANC  THE  SCHOLAR 

CHAPTER  I 

Four  meals  a  day,  nor  those  sparing,  were  not 
deemed  too  extravagant  an  interpretation  of  the  daily 
bread  for  which  the  Saxon  prayed.  Four  meals  a  day, 
from  earl  to  ceorl !  "  Happy  times  1 "  may  sigh  the 
descendant  of  the  last,  if  he  read  these  pages;  partly  so 
they  were  for  the  ceorl,  but  not  in  all  things,  for  never 
sweet  is  the  food,  and  never  gladdening  is  the  drink, 
of  servitude.  Inebriety,  the  vice  of  the  warlike  na- 
tions of  the  North,  had  not,  perhaps,  been  the  pre- 
eminent excess  of  the  earlier  Saxons,  while  yet  the 
active  and  fiery  Britons,  and  the  subsequent  petty  wars 
between  the  kings  of  the  Heptarchy,  enforced  on 
hardy  warriors  the  safety  of  temperance;  but  the  ex- 
ample of  the  Danes  had  been  fatal.  Those  giants  of 
the  sea,  like  all  who  pass  from  great  vicissitudes  of 
toil  and  repose,  from  the  tempest  to  the  haven, 
snatched  with  full  hands  every  pleasure  in  their  reach. 
With  much  that  tended  permanently  to  elevate  the 
character  of  the  Saxon,  they  imparted  much  for  a  time 
to  degrade  it.  The  Anglian  learned  to  feast  to  reple- 
tion, and  drink  to  delirium.  But  such  were  not  the 
vices  of  the  court  of  the  Confessor.  Brought  up  from 
his  youth  in  the  cloister-camp  of  the  Normans,  what 
he  loved  in  their  manners  was  the  abstemious  sobriety, 

47 


48  HAROLD 

and  the  ceremonial  religion,  which  distinguished  those 
sons  of  the  Scandinavian  from  all  other  kindred  tribes. 

The  Norman  position  in  France,  indeed,  in  much 
resembled  that  of  the  Spartan  in  Greece.  He  had 
forced  a  settlement  with  scanty  numbers  in  the  midst 
of  a  subjugated  and  sullen  population,  surrounded  by 
jealous  and  formidable  foes.  Hence  sobriety  was  a 
condition  of  his  being,  and  the  policy  of  the  chief  lent 
a  willing  ear  to  the  lessons  of  the  preacher.  Like  the 
Spartan,  every  Norman  of  pure  race  was  free  and 
noble;  and  this  consciousness  inspired  not  only  that 
remarkable  dignity  of  mien  which  Spartan  and  Nor- 
man alike  possessed,  but  also  that  fastidious  self- 
respect  which  would  have  revolted  from  exhibiting  a 
spectacle  of  debasement  to  inferiors.  And,  lastly,  as 
the  paucity  of  their  original  numbers,  the  perils  that 
beset,  and  the  good  fortune  that  attended  them,  served 
to  render  the  Spartans  the  most  religious  of  all  the 
Greeks  in  their  dependence  on  the  Divine  aid ;  so,  per- 
haps, to  the  same  causes  may  be  traced  the  proverbial 
piety  of  the  ceremonial  Normans;  they  carried  into 
their  new  creed  something  of  feudal  loyalty  to  their 
spiritual  protectors;  did  homage  to  the  Virgin  for  the 
lands  that  she  vouchsafed  to  bestow,  and  recognised 
in  St.  Michael  the  chief  who  conducted  their  armies. 

After  hearing  the  complin  vespers  in  the  temporary 
chapel  fitted  up  in  that  unfinished  abbey  of  Westmin- 
ster, which  occupied  the  site  of  the  temple  of  Apollo,1 
the  King  and  his  guests  repaired  to  their  evening  meal 

1  CAMDEN — A  church  was  built  out  of  the  ruins  of  that  tem- 
ple by  Sibert,  King  of  the  East  Saxons ;  and  Canute  favoured 
much  the  small  monastery  attached  to  it  (originally  established 
by  Dunstan  for  twelve  Benedictines),  on  account  of  its  Abbot 
Wulnoth,  whose  society  pleased  him.  The  old  palace  of  Canute, 
in  Thorney  Isle,  had  been  destroyed  by  fire. 


HAROLD  49 

in  the  great  hall  of  the  palace.  Below  the  dais  were 
ranged  three  long  tables  for  the  knights  in  William's 
train,  and  that  flower  of  the  Saxon  nobility  who,  fond, 
like  all  youth,  of  change  and  imitation,  thronged  the 
court  of  their  Normanised  saint,  and  scorned  the  rude 
patriotism  of  their  fathers.  But  hearts  truly  English 
were  not  there.  Yea,  many  of  Godwin's  noblest  foes 
sighed  for  the  English-hearted  Earl,  banished  by  Nor- 
man guile  on  behalf  of  English  law. 

At  the  oval  table  on  the  dais  the  guests  were  select 
and  chosen.  At  the  right  hand  of  the  King  sat  Will- 
iam; at  the  left  Odo  of  Bayeux.  Over  these  three 
stretched  a  canopy  of  cloth  of  gold;  the  chairs  on 
which  each  sate  were  of  metal,  richly  gilded  over,  and 
the  arms  carved  in  elaborate  arabesques.  At  this  table 
too  was  the  King's  nephew,  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  and, 
in  right  of  kinsmanship  to  the  Duke,  the  Norman's 
beloved  baron  and  grand  seneschal,  William  Fitzos- 
borne,  who,  though  in  Normandy  even  he  sate  not  at 
the  Duke's  table,  was,  as  related  to  his  lord,  invited 
by  Edward  to  his  own.  No  other  guests  were  admit- 
ted to  this  board,  so  that,  save  Edward,  all  were  Nor- 
man. The  dishes  were  of  gold  and  silver,  the  cups 
inlaid  with  jewels.  Before  each  guest  was  a  knife,  with 
hilt  adorned  by  precious  stones,  and  a  napkin  fringed 
with  silver.  The  meats  were  not  placed  on  the  table, 
but  served  upon  small  spits,  and  between  every  course 
a  basin  of  perfumed  water  was  borne  round  by  high- 
born pages.  No  dame  graced  the  festival ;  for  she  who 
should  have  presided — she,  matchless  for  beauty  with- 
out pride,  piety  without  asceticism,  and  learning  with- 
out pedantry — she,  the  pale  rose  of  England,  loved 
daughter  of  Godwin,  and  loathed  wife  of  Edward,  had 
shared  in  the  fall  of  her  kindred,  and  had  been  sent 
VOL.  I.— 4 


50  HAROLD 

by  the  meek  King,  or  his  fierce  counsellors,  to  an 
abbey  in  Hampshire,  with  the  taunt  "  that  it  was  not 
meet  that  the  child  and  sister  should  enjoy  state  and 
pomp,  while  the  sire  and  brethren  ate  the  bread  of  the 
stranger  in  banishment  and  disgrace." 

But,  hungry  as  were  the  guests,  it  was  not  the  cus- 
tom of  that  holy  court  to  fall  to  without  due  religious 
ceremonial.  The  rage  for  psalm-singing  was  then  at 
its  height  in  England;  psalmody  had  excluded  almost 
every  other  description  of  vocal  music;  and  it  is  even 
said  that  great  festivals  on  certain  occasions  were  pre- 
luded by  no  less  an  effort  of  lungs  and  memory  than 
the  entire  songs  bequeathed  to  us  by  King  David! 
This  day,  however,  Hugoline,  Edward's  Norman 
chamberlain,  had  been  pleased  to  abridge  the  length 
of  the  prolix  grace,  and  the  company  were  let  off,  to 
Edward's  surprise  and  displeasure,  with  the  curt  and 
unseemly  preparation  of  only  nine  psalms  and  one  spe- 
cial hymn  in  honour  of  some  obscure  saint  to  whom 
the  day  was  dedicated.  This  performed,  the  guests  re- 
sumed their  seats,  Edward  murmuring  an  apology  to 
William  for  the  strange  omission  of  his  chamberlain, 
and  saying  thrice  to  himself,  "  Naught,  naught — very 
naught." 

The  mirth  languished  at  the  royal  table,  despite 
some  gay  efforts  from  Rolf,  and  some  hollow  attempts 
at  light-hearted  cheerfulness  from  the  great  Duke, 
whose  eyes,  wandering  down  the  table,  were  endeav- 
ouring to  distinguish  Saxon  from  Norman,  and  count 
how  many  of  the  first  might  already  be  reckoned  in 
the  train  of  his  friends.  But  at  the  long  tables  below, 
as  the  feast  thickened,  and  ale,  mead,  pigment,  morat, 
and  wine  circled  round,  the  tongue  of  the  Saxon  was 
loosed,  and  the  Norman  knight  lost  somewhat  of  his 


HAROLD  51 

superb  gravity.  It  was  just  as  what  a  Danish  poet 
called  the  "  sun  of  the  night,"  (in  other  words,  the 
fierce  warmth  of  the  wine,)  had  attained  its  meridian 
glow,  that  some  slight  disturbance  at  the  doors  of  the 
hall,  without  which  waited  a  dense  crowd  of  the  poor 
on  whom  the  fragments  of  the  feast  were  afterwards 
to  be  bestowed,  was  followed  by  the  entrance  of  two 
strangers,  for  whom  the  officers  appointed  to  marshal 
the  entertainment  made  room  at  the  foot  of  one  of  the 
tables.  Both  these  new-comers  were  clad  with  ex- 
treme plainness;  one  in  a  dress,  though  not  quite  mo- 
nastic, that  of  an  ecclesiastic  of  low  degree;  the  other 
in  a  long  grey  mantle  and  loose  gonna,  the  .train  of 
which  last  was  tucked  into  a  broad  leathern  belt,  leav- 
ing bare  the  leggings,  which  showed  limbs  of  great 
bulk  and  sinew,  and  which  were  stained  by  the  dust 
and  mire  of  travel.  The  first  mentioned  was  slight 
and  small  of  person ;  the  last  was  of  the  height  and  port 
of  the  sons  of  Anak.  The  countenance  of  neither 
could  be  perceived,  for  both  had  let  fall  the  hood,  worn 
by  civilians  as  by  priests  out  of  doors,  more  than  half 
way  over  their  faces. 

A  murmur  of  great  surprise,  disdain,  and  resent- 
ment, at  the  intrusion  of  strangers  so  attired  circulated 
round  the  neighbourhood  in  which  they  had  been 
placed,  checked  for  a  moment  by  a  certain  air  of  re- 
spect which  the  officer  had  shown  towards  both,  but 
especially  the  taller;  but  breaking  out  with  greater 
vivacity  from  the  faint  restraint,  as  the  tall  man  un- 
ceremoniously stretched  across  the  board,  drew  tow- 
ards himself  an  immense  flagon,  which  (agreeably  to 
the  custom  of  arranging  the  feast  in  "  messes  "  of  four) 
had  been  specially  appropriated  to  Ulf  the  Dane,  God- 
rith  the  Saxon,  and  two  young  Norman  knights  akin 


52  HAROLD 

to  the  puissant  Lord  of  Grantmesnil, — and  having 
offered  it  to  his  comrade,  who  shook  his  head,  drained 
it  with  a  gusto  that  seemed  to  bespeak  him  at  least  no 
Norman,  and  wiped  his  lips  boorishly  with  the  sleeve 
of  his  huge  arm. 

"  Dainty  sir,"  said  one  of  those  Norman  knights, 
William  Mallet,  of  the  house  of  Mallet  de  Graville,1 
as  he  moved  as  far  from  the  gigantic  intruder  as  the 
space  on  the  settle  would  permit,  "  forgive  the  observa- 
tion that  you  have  damaged  my  mantle,  you  have 
grazed  my  foot,  and  you  have  drunk  my  wine.  And 
vouchsafe,  if  it  so  please  you,  the  face  of  the  man  who 
hath  done  this  triple  wrong  to  William  Mallet  de  Gra- 
ville." 

A  kind  of  laugh — for  laugh  absolute  it  was  not — 
rattled  under  the  cowl  of  the  tall  stranger,  as  he  drew 
it  still  closer  over  his  face,  with  a  hand  that  might 
have  spanned  the  breast  of  his  interrogator,  and  he 
made  a  gesture  as  if  he  did  not  understand  the  ques- 
tion addressed  to  him. 

Therewith  the  Norman  knight,  bending  with  demure 
courtesy  across  the  board  to  Godrith  the  Saxon,  said: 

"  Pardex?  but  this  fair  guest  and  seigneur  seemeth 
to  me,  noble  Godree  (whose  name  I  fear  my  lips  do 
but  rudely  enounce)  of  Saxon  line  and  language;  our 
Romance  tongue  he  knoweth  not.  Pray  you,  is  it  the 
Saxon  custom  to  enter  a  king's  hall  so  garbed,  and 
drink  a  knight's  wine  so  mutely?  " 

Godrith,  a  young  Saxon  of  considerable  rank,  but 
one  of  the  most  sedulous  of  the  imitators  of  the  for- 

1  See  note  to  PLUQUET'S  Roman  de  Rou,  p.  285. 

N.B. — Whenever  the  Roman  de  Rou  is  quoted  in  these  pages 
it  is  from  the  excellent  edition  of  M.  Pluquet. 

2  Pardex  or  Parde,  corresponding   to  the   modern   French 
expletive,  pardie. 


HAROLD  53 

eign  fashions,  coloured  high  at  the  irony  in  the 
knight's  speech,  and  turning  rudely  to  the  huge  guest, 
who  was  now  causing  immense  fragments  of  pasty  to 
vanish  under  the  cavernous  cowl,  he  said  in  his  native 
tongue,  though  with  a  lisp  as  if  unfamiliar  to  him* — 

"  If  thou  beest  Saxon,  shame  us  not  with  thy 
ceorlish  manners;  crave  pardon  of  this  Norman  thegn, 
who  will  doubtless  yield  it  to  thee  in  pity.  Uncover 
thy  face — and — 

Here  the  Saxon's  rebuke  was  interrupted;  for  one 
of  the  servitors  just  then  approaching  Godrith's  side 
with  a  spit,  elegantly  caparisoned  with  some  score  of 
plump  larks,  the  unmannerly  giant  stretched  out  his 
arm  within  an  inch  of  the  Saxon's  startled  nose,  and 
possessed  himself  of  larks,  broche,  and  all.  He  drew 
off  two,  which  he  placed  on  his  friend's  platter,  despite 
all  dissuasive  gesticulations,  and  deposited  the  rest 
upon  his  own.  The  young  banqueters  gazed  upon  the 
spectacle  in  wrath  too  full  for  words. 

At  last  spoke  Mallet  de  Graville,  with  an  envious  eye 
upon  the  larks — for  though  a  Norman  was  not  glut- 
tonous, he  was  epicurean — "  Certes,  and  foi  de  cheva- 
lier! a  man  must  go  into  strange  parts  if  he  wish  to  see 
monsters;  but  we  are  fortunate  people,"  (and  he  turned 
to  his  Norman  friend,  Aymer,  Quen 1  or  Count, 
D'Evreux,)  "  that  we  have  discovered  Polyphemus 
without  going  so  far  as  Ulysses ;  "  and  pointing  to  the 
hooded  giant,  he  quoted,  appropriately  enough, 

"  Monstrum,  horrendum,  informe,  ingens,  cui  lumen  ademp- 
tum." 

1  Quen,  or  rather  Quens;  synonymous  with  Count  in  the 
Norman  Chronicles.  Earl  Godwin  is  strangely  styled  by  Wace, 
Quens  Gurine. 


54  HAROLD 

The  giant  continued  to  devour  his  larks,  as  compla- 
cently as  the  ogre  to  whom  he  was  likened  might  have 
devoured  the  Greeks  in  his  cave.  But  his  fellow  in- 
truder seemed  agitated  by  the  sound  of  the  Latin;  he 
lifted  up  his  head  suddenly,  and  showed  lips  glistening 
with  white  even  teeth,  and  curved  into  an  approving 
smile,  while  he  said :  "  Bene,  my  fill!  bene,  lepidissime, 
poetce  verba,  in  militis  ore,  nan  indecora  sonant"  1 

The  young  Norman  stared  at  the  speaker,  and  re- 
plied, in  the  same  tone  of  grave  affectation :  "  Courte- 
ous sir!  the  approbation  of  an  ecclesiastic  so  eminent 
as  I  take  you  to  be,  from  the  modesty  with  which  you 
conceal  your  greatness,  cannot  fail  to  draw  upon  me 
the  envy  of  my  English  friends;  who  are  accustomed 
to  swear  in  verba  magistri,  only  for  verba  they  learn- 
edly substitute  vina" 

"  You  are  pleasant,  Sire  Mallet,"  said  Godrith,  red- 
dening; "  but  I  know  well  that  Latin  is  only  fit  for 
monks  and  shavelings ;  and  little  enow  even  they  have 
to  boast  of." 

The  Norman's  lip  curled  in  disdain.  "  Latin ! — O, 
Godree,  bien  aime! — Latin  is  the  tongue  of  Caesars  and 
senators,  fortes  conquerors  and  preux  chevaliers. 
Knowest  thou  not  that  Duke  William  the  dauntless 
at  eight  years  old  had  the  comments  of  Julius  Caesar 
by  heart? — and  that  it  is  his  saying,  that  '  a  king  with- 
out letters  is  a  crowned  ass  ? '  *  When  the  king  is  an 
ass,  asinine  are  his  subjects.  Wherefore  go  to  school, 
speak  respectfully  of  thy  betters,  the  monks  and  shave- 
lings, who  with  us  are  often  brave  captains  and  sage 

1 "  Good,  good,  pleasant  son, — the  words  of  the  poet  sound 
gracefully  on  the  lips  of  the  knight." 

2  A  sentiment  variously  assigned  to  William  and  to  his  son 
Henry  the  Beau  Clerc. 


HAROLD  55 

councillors, — and  learn  that  a  full  head  makes  a 
weighty  hand." 

"Thy  name,  young  knight?"  said  the  ecclesiastic, 
in  Norman  French,  though  with  a  slight  foreign  ac- 
cent. 

"  I  can  give  it  thee,"  said  the  giant,  speaking  aloud 
for  the  first  time,  in  the  same  language,  and  in  a  rough 
voice,  which  a  quick  ear  might  have  detected  as  dis- 
guised,— "  I  can  describe  to  thee  name,  birth,  and 
quality.  By  name,  this  youth  is  Guillaume  Mallet, 
sometimes  styled  De  Graville,  because  our  Norman 
gentilhommes,  forsooth,  must  always  now  have  a  '  de ' 
tacked  to  their  names;  nevertheless  he  hath  no  other 
right  to  the  seigneurie  of  Graville,  which  appertains 
to  the  head  of  his  house,  than  may  be  conferred  by  an 
old  tower  on  one  corner  of  the  demesnes  so  desig- 
nated, with  lands  that  would  feed  one  horse  and  two 
villeins — if  they  were  not  in  pawn  to  a  Jew  for  moneys 
to  buy  velvet  mantelines  and  a  chain  of  gold.  By 
birth,  he  comes  from  Mallet,1  a  bold  Norwegian  in  the 
fleet  of  Rou  the  Sea-king;  his  mother  was  a  Frank 
woman,  from  whom  he  inherits  his  best  possessions — 
videlicet,  a  shrewd  wit,  and  a  railing  tongue.  His  qual- 
ities are  abstinence,  for  he  eateth  nowhere  save  at  the 
cost  of  another — some  Latin,  for  he  was  meant  for  a 
monk,  because  he  seemed  too  slight  of  frame  for  a  war- 
rior— some  courage,  for  in  spite  of  his  frame  he  slew 
three  Burgundians  with  his  own  hand;  and  Duke  Will- 
iam, among  their  foolish  acts,  spoilt  a  friar  sans  tache, 
by  making  a  knight  sans  terre;  and  for  the  rest — " 

"  And  for  the  rest,"  interrupted  the  Sire  de  Gra- 
ville, turning  white  with  wrath,  but  speaking  in  a  low 
repressed  voice,  "  were  it  not  that  Duke  William  sate 
1  Mallet  is  a  genuine  Scandinavian  name  to  this  day. 


56  HAROLD 

yonder,  thou  shouldst  have  six  inches  oi  cold  steel  in 
thy  huge  carcase  to  digest  thy  stolen  dinner,  and 
silence  thy  unmannerly  tongue. — " 

"  For  the  rest,"  continued  the  giant  indifferently, 
and  as  if  he  had  not  heard  the  interruption;  "  for  the 
rest,  he  only  resembles  Achilles,  in  being  impiger  ira- 
cundus.  Big  men  can  quote  Latin  as  well  as  little 
ones,  Messire  Mallet  the  beau  clerc! " 

Mallet's  hand  was  on  his  dagger;  and  his  eye  dilated 
like  that  of  the  panther  before  he  springs;  but  fortu- 
nately, at  that  moment,  the  deep  sonorous  voice  of 
William,  accustomed  to  send  its  sounds  down  the 
ranks  of  an  army,  rolled  clear  through  the  assem- 
blage, though  pitched  little  above  its  ordinary  key: — 

"  Fair  is  your  feast,  and  bright  your  wine,  Sir  King 
and  brother  mine!  But  I  miss  here  what  king  and 
knight  hold  as  the  salt  of  the  feast  and  the  perfume  to 
the  wine:  the  lay  of  the  minstrel.  Beshrew  me,  but 
both  Saxon  and  Norman  are  of  kindred  stock,  and 
love  to  hear  in  hall  and  bower  the  deeds  of  their  north- 
ern fathers.  Crave  I  therefore  from  your  gleemen,  or 
harpers,  some  song  of  the  olden  time!  " 

A  murmur  of  applause  went  through  the  Norman 
part  of  the  assembly;  the  Saxons  looked  up;  and  some 
of  the  more  practised  courtiers  sighed  wearily,  for  they 
knew  well  what  ditties  alone  were  in  favour  with  the 
saintly  Edward. 

The  low  voice  of  the  King  in  reply  was  not  heard, 
but  those  habituated  to  read  his  countenance  in  its 
very  faint  varieties  of  expression,  might  have  seen  that 
it  conveyed  reproof;  and  its  purport  soon  became 
practically  known,  when  a  lugubrious  prelude  was 
heard  from  a  quarter  of  the  hall,  in  which  sate  cer- 
tain ghost -like  musicians  in  white  robes — white  as 


HAROLD  57 

winding-sheets;  and  forthwith  a  dolorous  and  dirgelike 
voice  chanted  a  long  and  most  tedious  recital  of  the 
miracles  and  martyrdom  of  some  early  saint.  So  mo- 
notonous was  the  chant,  that  its  effect  soon  became 
visible  in  a  general  drowsiness.  And  when  Edward, 
who  alone  listened  with  attentive  delight,  turned  tow- 
ards the  close  to  gather  sympathising  admiration 
from  his  distinguished  guests,  he  saw  his  nephew 
yawning  as  if  his  jaw  were  dislocated — the  Bishop  of 
Bayeux,  with  his  well-ringed  fingers  interlaced  and 
resting  on  his  stomach,  fast  asleep — Fitzosborne's  half- 
shaven  head  balancing  to  and  fro  with  many  an  uneasy 
start — and,  William,  wide  awake  indeed,  but  with  eyes 
fixed  on  vacant  space,  and  his  soul  far  away  from  the 
gridiron  to  which  (all  other  saints  be  praised!)  the  saint 
of  the  ballad  had  at  last  happily  arrived. 

"  A  comforting  and  salutary  recital,  Count  Will- 
iam," said  the  King. 

The  Duke  started  from  his  reverie,  and  bowed  his 
head:  then  said,  rather  abruptly,  "  Is  not  yon  blazon 
that  of  King  Alfred?" 

"Yea.     Wherefore?" 

"Hem!  Matilda  of  Flanders  is  in  direct  descent 
from  Alfred:  it  is  a  name  and  a  line  the  Saxons  yet 
honour! " 

"  Surely,  yes ;  Alfred  was  a  great  man,  and  reformed 
the  Psalmster,"  replied  Edward. 

The  dirge  ceased,  but  so  benumbing  had  been  its 
effect,  that  the  torpor  it  created  did  not  subside  with 
the  cause.  There  was  a  dead  and  funereal  silence 
throughout  the  spacious  hall,  when  suddenly,  loudly, 
mightily,  as  the  blast  of  the  trumpet  upon  the  hush  of 
the  grave,  rose  a  single  voice.  All  started — all  turned 
— all  looked  to  one  direction;  and  they  saw  that  the 


58  HAROLD 

great  voice  pealed  from  the  farthest  end  of  the  hall. 
From  under  his  gown  the  gigantic  stranger  had  drawn 
a  small  three-stringed  instrument — somewhat  resem- 
bling the  modern  lute — and  thus  he  sang, — 

THE  BALLAD   OF   ROU  * 

i. 
From  Blois  to  Senlis,  wave  by  wave,  roll'd  on  the  Norman 

flood, 
And  Frank  on  Frank  went  drifting  down  the  weltering  tide 

of  blood ; 

There  was  not  left  in  all  the  land  a  castle  wall  to  fire, 
And  not  a  wife  but  wailed  a  lord,  a  child  but  mourned  a  sire. 
To  Charles  the  king,  the  mitred  monks,  the  mailed  barons  flew, 
While,  shaking  earth,  behind  them  strode  the  thunder  march 

of  Rou. 

ii. 
"  O  King,"  then  cried  those  barons  bold,  "  in  vain  are  mace 

and  mail, 

We  fall  before  the  Norman  axe,  as  corn  before  the  hail." 
"  And  vainly,"  cried  the  pious  monks,  "  by  Mary's  shrine  we 

kneel, 
For  prayers,  like  arrows,  glance  aside,  against  the  Norman 

steel." 
The  barons  groaned,  the  shavelings  wept,  while  near  and  nearer 

drew, 
As  death-birds  round  their  scented  feast,  the  raven  flags  of 

Rou. 

in. 
Then  said  King  Charles,  "  Where  thousands  fail,  what  king 

can  stand  alone, 
The  strength  of  kings  is  in  the  men  that  gather  round  the 

throne. 

When  war  dismays  my  barons  bold,  'tis  time  for  war  to  cease ; 
When  Heaven  forsakes  my  pious  monks,  the  will  of  Heaven 

is  peace. 

1  Rou — the  name  given  by  the  French  to  Rollo,  or  Rolf- 
ganger,  the  founder  of  the  Norman  settlement. 


HAROLD  59 

Go  forth,  my  monks,  with  mass  and  rood  the  Norman  camp 

unto, 
And  to  the  fold,  with  shepherd  crook,  entice  this  grisly  Rou. 

IV. 

"  I'll  give  him  all  the  ocean  coast,  from  Michael  Mount  to  Eure, 
And  Gille,  my  child,  shall  be  his  bride,  to  bind  him  fast  and 

sure: 
Let  him  but  kiss  the  Christian  cross,  and  sheathe  the  heathen 

sword, 

And  hold  the  lands  I  cannot  keep,  a  fief  from  Charles  his  lord." 
Forth  went  the  pastors  of  the  Church,  the  Shepherd's  work 

to  do, 
And  wrap  the  golden  fleece  around  the  tiger  loins  of  Rou : 

v. 

Psalm-chanting  came  the  shaven  monks,  within  the  camp  of 

dread ; 

Amidst  his  warriors,  Norman  Rou  stood  taller  by  the  head. 
Out  spoke  the  Frank  Archbishop  then,  a  priest  devout  and 

sage, 
"  When  peace  and  plenty  wait  thy  word,  what  need  of  war 

and  rage? 

Why  waste  a  land  as  fair  as  aught  beneath  the  arch  of  blue, 
Which  might  be  thine  to  sow  and  reap? — Thus  saith  the  King 

to  Rou: 

VI. 

" '  I'll  give  thee  all  the  ocean  coast,  from  Michael  Mount  to 
Eure, 

And  Gille,  my  fairest  child,  as  bride,  to  bind  thee  fast  and  sure ; 

If  thou  but  kneel  to  Christ  our  God,  and  sheathe  thy  paynim 
sword, 

And  hold  thy  land,  th«  Church's  son,  a  fief  from  Charles  thy 
lord.'  " 

The  Norman  on  his  warriors  looked — to  counsel  they  with- 
drew; 

The  saints  took  pity  on  the  Franks,  and  moved  the  soul  of  Rou. 

vn. 

So  back  he  strode  and  thus  he  spoke,  to  that  Archbishop  meek : 
"  I  take  the  land  thy  king  bestows  from  Eure  to  Michael-peak, 


60  HAROLD 

I  take  the  maid,  or  foul  or  fair,  a  bargain  with  the  toast, 
And  for  thy  creed,  a  sea-king's  gods  are  those  that  give  the 

most. 

So  hie  thee  back,  and  tell  thy  chief  to  make  his  proffer  true, 
And  he  shall  find  a  docile  son,  and  ye  a  saint  in  Rou." 

VIII. 

So  o'er  the  border  stream  of  Epte  came  Rou  the  Norman, 
where, 

Begirt  with  barons,  sat  the  King,  enthroned  at  green  St.  Clair; 

He  placed  his  hand  in  Charles's  hand, — loud  shouted  all  the 
throng, 

But  tears  were  in  King  Charles's  eyes — the  grip  of  Rou  was 
strong. 

"  Now  kiss  the  foot,"  the  Bishop  said,  "  that  homage  still  is 
due ;  " 

Then  dark  the  frown  and  stern  the  smile  of  that  grim  con- 
vert, Rou. 

IX. 

He  takes  the  foot,  as  if  the  foot  to  slavish  lips  to  bring ; 

The  Normans  scowl ;   he  tilts  the  throne,  and  backwards  falls 

the  King. 
Loud  laugh  the  joyous  Norman  men — pale  stare  the  Franks 

aghast ; 
And  Rou  lifts  up  his  head  as  from  the  wind  springs  up  the 

mast; 

"  I  said  I  would  adore  a  God,  but  not  a  mortal  too; 
The  foot  that  fled  before  a  foe  let  cowards  kiss !  "  said  Rou. 

No  words  can  express  the  excitement  which  this 
rough  minstrelsy — marred  as  it  is  by  our  poor  trans- 
lation from  the  Romance-tongue  in  which  it  was 
chanted — produced  amongst  the  Norman  guests;  less 
perhaps,  indeed,  the  song  itself,  than  the  recognition 
of  the  minstrel;  and  as  he  closed,  from  more  than  a 
hundred  voices  came  the  loud  murmur,  only  subdued 
from  a  shout  by  the  royal  presence,  "  Taillefer,  our 
Norman  Taillefer ! " 


HAROLD  61 

"  By  our  joint  saint,  Peter,  my  cousin  the  King," 
exclaimed  William,  after  a  frank  cordial  laugh ;  "  Well 
I  wot,  no  tongue  less  free  than  my  warrior  minstrel's 
could  have  so  shocked  our  ears.  Excuse  his  bold 
theme,  for  the  sake  of  his  bold  heart,  I  pray  thee;  and 
since  I  know  well  "  (here  the  Duke's  face  grew  grave 
and  anxious)  "  that  nought  save  urgent  and  weighty 
news  from  my  stormy  realm  could  have  brought  over 
this  rhyming  petrel,  permit  the  officer  behind  me  to 
lead  hither  a  bird,  I  fear,  of  omen  as  well  as  of  song." 

"  Whatever  pleases  thee,  pleases  me,"  said  Edward, 
drily;  and  he  gave  the  order  to  the  attendant.  In  a 
few  moments,  up  the  space  in  the  hall,  between  either 
table,  came  the  large  stride  of  the  famous  minstrel, 
preceded  by  the  officer  and  followed  by  the  ecclesias- 
tic. The  hoods  of  both  were  now  thrown  back,  and 
discovered  countenances  in  strange  contrast,  but  each 
equally  worthy  of  the  attention  it  provoked.  The 
face  of  the  minstrel  was  open  and  sunny  as  the  day; 
and  that  of  the  priest,  dark  and  close  as  night.  Thick 
curls  of  deep  auburn  (the  most  common  colour  for  the 
locks  of  the  Norman)  wreathed  in  careless  disorder 
round  Taillefer's  massive  unwrinkled  brow.  His  eye, 
of  light  hazel,  was  bold  and  joyous;  mirth,  though  sar- 
castic and  sly,  mantled  round  his  lips.  His  whole  pres- 
ence was  at  once  engaging  and  heroic. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  priest's  cheek  was  dark  and 
sallow;  his  features  singularly  delicate  and  refined;  his 
forehead  high,  but  somewhat  narrow,  and  crossed  with 
lines  of  thought;  his  mien  composed,  modest,  but  not 
without  calm  self-confidence.  Amongst  that  assem- 
bly of  soldiers,  noiseless,  self-collected,  and  conscious 
of  his  surpassing  power  over  swords  and  mail,  moved 
the  SCHOLAR. 


62  HAROLD 

William's  keen  eye  rested  on  the  priest  with  some 
surprise,  not  unmixed  with  pride  and  ire;  but  first  ad- 
dressing Taillefer,  who  now  gained  the  foot  of  the  dais, 
he  said,  with  a  familiarity  almost  fond: 

"  Now,  by're  Lady,  if  thou  bringest  not  ill  news,  thy 
gay  face,  man,  is  pleasanter  to  mine  eyes  than  thy  rough 
song  to  my  ears.  Kneel,  Taillefer,  kneel  to  King  Ed- 
ward, and  with  more  address,  rogue,  than  our  unlucky 
countryman  to  King  Charles." 

But  Edward,  as  ill-liking  the  form  of  the  giant  as 
the  subject  of  his  lay,  said,  pushing  back  his  seat  as  far 
as  he  could : 

"  Nay,  nay,  we  excuse  thee,  we  excuse  thee,  tall 
man."  Nevertheless,  the  minstrel  still  knelt,  and  so, 
with  a  look  of  profound  humility,  did  the  priest.  Then 
both  slowly  rose,  and  at  a  sign  from  the  Duke,  passed 
to  the  other  side  of  the  table,  standing  behind  Fitz- 
osborne's  chair. 

"  Clerk,"  said  William,  eyeing  deliberately  the  sallow 
face  of  the  ecclesiastic ;  "  I  know  thee  of  old ;  and  if  the 
Church  have  sent  me  an  envoy,  per  la  resplendar  De, 
it  should  have  sent  me  at  least  an  abbot." 

"  Hein,  hein! "  said  Taillefer,  bluntly,  "  vex  not  my 
bon  camarade,  Count  of  the  Normans.  Gramercy,  thou 
wilt  welcome  him,  peradventure,  better  than  me;  for 
the  singer  tells  but  of  discord,  and  the  sage  may  re- 
store the  harmony." 

'  "Ha!"  said  the  Duke,  and  the  frown  fell  so  dark 
over  his  eyes  that  the  last  seemed  only  visible  by  two 
sparks  of  fire.  "  I  guess,  my  proud  Vavasours  are 
mutinous.  Retire,  thou  and  thy  comrade.  Await  me 
in  my  chamber.  The  feast  shall  not  flag  in  London 
because  the  wind  blows  a  gale  in  Rouen." 

The  two  envoys,  since  so  they  seemed,  bowed  in 
silence  and  withdrew. 


HAROLD  63 

"  Nought  of  ill-tidings,  I  trust,"  said  Edward,  who 
had  not  listened  to  the  whispered  communications  that 
had  passed  between  the  Duke  and  his  subjects.  "  No 
schism  in  thy  Church?  The  clerk  seemed  a  peaceful 
man,  and  a  humble." 

"  An  there  were  schism  in  my  Church,"  said  the 
fiery  Duke,  "  my  brother  of  Bayeux  would  settle  it  by 
arguments  as  close  as  the  gap  between  cord  and 
throttle." 

"Ah!  thou  art,  doubtless,  well  read  in  the  canons, 
holy  Odo!  "  said  the  King,  turning  to  the  bishop  with 
more  respect  than  he  had  yet  evinced  towards  that 
gentle  prelate. 

"  Canons,  yes,  Seigneur,  I  draw  them  up  myself  for 
my  flock  conformably  with  such  interpretations  of  the 
Roman  Church  as  suit  best  with  the  Norman  realm: 
and  woe  to  deacon,  monk,  or  abbot,  who  chooses  to 
misconstrue  them."  l 

The  bishop  looked  so  truculent  and  menacing,  while 
his  fancy  thus  conjured  up  the  possibility  of  heretical 
dissent,  that  Edward  shrank  from  him  as  he  had  done 
from  Taillefer;  and  in  a  few  minutes  after,  on  exchange 
of  signals  between  himself  and  the  Duke,  who,  im- 
patient to  escape,  was  too  stately  to  testify  that  desire, 
the  retirement  of  the  royal  party  broke  up  the  ban- 
quet ;  save,  indeed,  that  a  few  of  the  elder  Saxons,  and 
more  incorrigible  Danes,  still  steadily  kept  their  seats, 
and  were  finally  dislodged  from  their  later  settlements 
on  the  stone  floors,  to  find  themselves,  at  dawn,  care- 

1  Pious  severity  to  the  heterodox  was  a  Norman  virtue. 
William  of  Poictiers  says  of  William,  "  One  knows  with  what 
zeal  he  pursued  and  exterminated  those  who  thought  differ- 
ently;" i.e.,  on  transubstantiation.  But  the  wise  Norman, 
while  flattering  the  tastes  of  the  Roman  Pontiff  in  such  matters, 
took  special  care  to  preserve  the  independence  of  his  Church 
from  any  undue  dictation. 


64  HAROLD 

fully  propped  in  a  row  against  the  outer  walls  of  the 
palace,  with  their  patient  attendants,  holding  links,  and 
gazing  on  their  masters  with  stolid  envy,  if  not  of  the 
repose  at  least  of  the  drugs  that  had  caused  it. 


CHAPTER   II 

"And  now,"  said  William,  reclining  on  a  long  and 
narrow  couch,  with  raised  carved  work  all  round  it  like 
a  box  (the  approved  fashion  of  a  bed  in  those  days), 
"  now,  Sire  Taillefer — thy  news." 

There  were  then  in  the  Duke's  chamber,  the  Count 
Fitzosborne,  Lord  of  Breteuil,  surnamed  "  the  Proud 
Spirit  " — who,  with  great  dignity,  was  holding  before 
the  brazier  the  ample  tunic  of  linen  (called  dormitorium 
in  the  Latin  of  that  time,  and  night-rail  in  the  Saxon 
tongue)  in  which  his  lord  was  to  robe  his  formidable 
limbs  for  repose,1 — Taillefer,  who  stood  erect  before 
the  Duke  as  a  Roman  sentry  at  his  post,' — and  the 
ecclesiastic,  a  little  apart,  with  arms  gathered  under 
his  gown,  and  his  bright  dark  eyes  fixed  on  the 
ground. 

"  High  and  puissant,  my  liege,"  then  said  Taillefer, 
gravely,  and  with  a  shade  of  sympathy  on  his  large 
face,  "  my  news  is  such  as  is  best  told  briefly:  Bunaz, 
Count  d'Eu  and  descendant  of  Richard  Sanspeur,  hath 
raised  the  standard  of  revolt." 

"  Go  on,"  said  the  Duke,  clenching  his  hand. 

"  Henry,  King  of  the  French,  is  treating  with  the 

1  A  few  generations  later  this  comfortable  and  decent  fashion 
oi  night-gear  was  abandoned;  and  our  forefathers,  Saxon 
and  Norman,  went  to  bed  in  puris  naturalibus,  like  the  Lap- 
landers. 


HAROLD  65 

rebel,  and  stirring  up  mutiny  in  thy  realm,  and  pre- 
tenders to  thy  throne." 

"  Ha!  "  said  the  Duke,  and  his  lip  quivered;  "  this  is 
not  all." 

"  No,  my  liege !  and  the  worst  is  to  come.  Thy 
uncle  Mauger,  knowing  that  thy  heart  is  bent  on  thy 
speedy  nuptials  with  the  high  and  noble  damsel,  Ma- 
tilda of  Flanders,  has  broken  out  again  in  thine  ab- 
sence— is  preaching  against  thee  in  hall  and  from 
pulpit.  He  declares  that  such  espousals  are  incestu- 
ous, both  as  within  the  forbidden  degrees,  and  inas- 
much as  Adele,  the  lady's  mother,  was  betrothed  to 
thine  uncle  Richard;  and  Mauger  menaces  excommu- 
nication if  my  liege  pursues  his  suit! l  So  troubled  is 
the  realm,  that  I,  waiting  not  for  debate  in  council, 
and  fearing  sinister  ambassage  if  I  did  so,  took  ship 
from  thy  port  of  Cherbourg,  and  have  not  flagged  rein, 
and  scarce  broken  bread,  till  I  could  say  to  the  heir 
of  Rolf  the  Founder — Save  thy  realm  from  the  men  of 
mail,  and  thy  bride  from  the  knaves  in  serge." 

"Ho,  ho!"  cried  William;  then  bursting  forth  in 
full  wrath,  as  he  sprang  from  the  couch.  "  Hearest 
thou  this,  Lord  Seneschal?  Seven  years,  the  proba- 
tion of  the  patriarch,  have  I  wooed  and  waited;  and 
\o,  in  the  seventh,  does  a  proud  priest  say  to  me, 
'Wrench  the  love  from  thy  heart-strings!' — Excom- 

1  Most  of  the  chroniclers  merely  state  the  parentage  within 
rtie  forbidden  degrees  as  the  obstacle  to  William's  marriage 
with  Matilda;  but  the  betrothal  or  rather  nuptials  of  her 
mother  Adele  with  Richard  III.  (though  never  consummated), 
appears  to  have  been  the  true  canonical  objection. — See  note 
to  Wace,  p.  27.  Nevertheless.  Matilda's  mother,  Adele,  stood 
in  the  relation  of  aunt  to  William,  as  widow  of  his  father's 
elder  brother,  "  an  affinity,"  as  is  observed  by  a  writer  in  the 
"  Archaeologia."  "  quite  near  enough  to  account  for,  if  not  to 
justify,  the  interference  of  the  Church." — Arch.  vol.  xxxii. 
p.  109. 

VOL.  I.-s 


66  HAROLD 

municate  me — ME — William,  the  son  of  Robert  the 
Devil!  Ha,  by  God's  splendour,  Mauger  shall  live  to 
wish  the  father  stood,  in  the  foul  fiend's  true  likeness, 
by  his  side,  rather  than  brave  the  bent  brow  of  the 
son!" 

"  Dread  my  lord,"  said  Fitzosborne,  desisting  from 
his  employ,  and  rising  to  his  feet;  "  thou  knowest 
that  I  am  thy  true  friend  and  leal  knight;  thou  know- 
est how  I  have  aided  thee  in  this  marriage  with  the 
lady  of  Flanders,  and  how  gravely  I  think  that  what 
pleases  thy  fancy  will  guard  thy  realm;  but  rather 
than  brave  the  order  of  the  Church,  and  the  ban  of  the 
Pope,  I  would  see  thee  wed  to  the  poorest  virgin  in 
Normandy." 

William,  who  had  been  pacing  the  room  like  an  en- 
raged lion  in  his  den,  halted  in  amaze  at  this  bold 
speech. 

"This  from  thee,  William  Fitzosborne! — from  thee! 
I  tell  thee,  that  if  all  the  priests  in  Christendom,  and 
all  the  barons  in  France,  stood  between  me  and  my 
bride,  I  would  hew  my  way  through  the  midst.  Foes 
invade  my  realm — let  them;  princes  conspire  against 
me — I  smile  in  scorn;  subjects  mutiny — this  strong 
hand  can  punish,  or  this  large  heart  can  forgive.  All 
these  are  the  dangers  which  he  who  governs  men 
should  prepare  to  meet;  but  man  has  a  right  to  his 
love,  as  the  stag  to  his  hind.  And  he  who  wrongs  me 
here,  is  foe  and  traitor  to  me,  not  as  Norman  Duke 
but  as  human  being.  Look  to  it — thou  and  thy  proud 
barons,  look  to  it!" 

"  Proud  may  thy  barons  be,"  said  Fitzosborne,  red- 
dening, and  with  a  brow  that  quailed  not  before  his 
lord's ;  "  for  they  are  the  sons  of  those  who  carved  out 
the  realm  of  the  Norman,  and  owned  in  Rou  but  the 


HAROLD  67 

feudal  chief  of  free  warriors;  vassals  are  not  villeins. 
And  that  which  we  hold  our  duty — whether  to  Church 
or  chief — that,  Duke  William,  thy  proud  barons  will 
doubtless  do;  nor  less,  believe  me,  for  threats  which, 
braved  in  discharge  of  duty  and  defence  of  freedom, 
we  hold  as  air." 

The  Duke  gazed  on  his  haughty  subject  with  an 
eye  in  which  a  meaner  spirit  might  have  seen  its  doom. 
The  veins  in  his  broad  temples  swelled  like  cords,  and 
a  light  foam  gathered  round  his  quivering  lips.  But 
fiery  and  fearless  as  William  was,  not  less  was  he  saga- 
cious and  profound.  In  that  one  man  he  saw  the  rep- 
resentative of  that  superb  and  matchless  chivalry — 
that  race  of  races — those  men  of  men,  in  whom  the 
brave  acknowledge  the  highest  example  of  valiant 
deeds,  and  the  free  the  manliest  assertion  of  noble 
thoughts,1  since  the  day  when  the  l?st  Athenian  cov- 
ered his  head  with  his  mantle,  and  mutely  died:  and 
far  from  being  the  most  stubborn  against  his  will,  it 
was  to  Fitzosborne's  paramount  influence  with  the 
council,  that  he  had  often  owed  their  submission  to 
his  wishes,  and  their  contributions  to  his  wars.  In 
the  very  tempest  of  his  wrath,  he  felt  that  the  blow 

1  It  might  be  easy  to  show,  were  this  the  place,  that  though 
the  Saxons  never  lost  their  love  of  liberty,  yet  that  the  vic- 
tories which  gradually  regained  the  liberty  from  the  gripe  of 
the  Anglo-Norman  kings,  were  achieved  by  the  Anglo-Norman 

t  aristocracy.  And  even  to  this  day,  the  few  rare  descendants 
of  that  race  (whatever  their  political  faction),  will  generally 

;  exhibit  that  impatience  of  despotic  influence,  and  that  disdain 
of  corruption,  which  characterise  the  homely  bonders  of  Nor- 
way, in  whom  we  may  still  recognise  the  sturdy  likeness  of 
their  fathers ;  while  it  is  also  remarkable  that  the  modern 
inhabitants  of  those  portions  of  the  kingdom  originally  peopled 
by  their  kindred  Danes,  are,  irrespective  of  mere  party  di- 
visions, noted  for  their  intolerance  of  all  oppression,  and  their 
resolute  independence  of  character;  to  wit,  Yorkshire,  Nor- 
folk, Cumberland,  and  large  districts  in  the  Scottish  Lowlands. 


68  HAROLD 

he  longed  to  strike  on  that  bold  head  would  shiver  his 
ducal  throne  to  the  dust.  He  felt,  too,  that  awful  in- 
deed was  that  power  of  the  Church  which  could  thus 
turn  against  him  the  heart  of  his  truest  knight:  and 
he  began  (for  with  all  his  outward  frankness  his  tem- 
per was  suspicious)  to  wrong  the  great-souled  noble 
by  the  thought  that  he  might  already  be  won  over  by 
the  enemies  whom  Mauger  had  arrayed  against  his 
nuptials.  Therefore,  with  one  of  those  rare  and  mighty 
efforts  of  that  dissimulation  which  debased  his  char- 
acter, but  achieved  his  fortunes,  he  cleared  his  brow 
of  its  dark  cloud,  and  said  in  a  low  voice,  that  was  not 
without  its  pathos: 

"  Had  an  angel  from  heaven  forewarned  me  that 
William  Fitzosborne  would  speak  thus  to  his  kinsman 
and  brother  in  arms,  in  the  hour  of  need  and  the  agony 
of  passion,  I  would  have  disbelieved  him.  Let  it 
pass " 

But  ere  the  last  word  was  out  of  his  lips,  Fitzosborne 
had  fallen  on  his  knees  before  the  Duke,  and,  clasping 
his  hand,  exclaimed,  while  the  tears  rolled  down  his 
swarthy  cheek,  "  Pardon,  pardon,  my  liege !  when  thou 
speakest  thus  my  heart  melts.  What  thou  wiliest,  that 
will  I!  Church  or  Pope,  no  matter.  Send  me  to 
Flanders;  I  will  bring  back  thy  bride." 

The  slight  smile  that  curved  William's  lip,  showed 
that  he  was  scarce  worthy  of  that  sublime  weakness 
in  his  friend.  But  he  cordially  pressed  the  hand  that 
grasped  his  own,  and  said,  "  Rise;  thus  should  brother 
speak  to  brother."  Then — for  his  wrath  was  only  con- 
cealed, not  stifled,  and  yearned  for  its  vent — his  eye 
fell  upon  the  delicate  and  thoughtful  face  of  the  priest, 
who  had  watched  this  short  and  stormy  conference  in 
profound  silence,  despite  Taillefer's  whispers  to  him 


HAROLD  69 

to  interrupt  the  dispute.  "  So,  priest,"  he  said,  "  I 
remember  me  that  when  Mauger  before  let  loose  his 
rebellious  tongue  thou  didst  lend  thy  pedant  learn- 
ing to  eke  out  his  brainless  treason.  Methought  that 
I  then  banished  thee  my  realm  ?  " 

"  Not  so,  Count  and  Seigneur,"  answered  the  eccle- 
siastic, with  a  grave  but  arch  smile  on  his  lip;  "  let  me 
remind  thee,  that  to  speed  me  back  to  my  native  land 
thou  didst  graciously  send  me  a  horse,  halting  on  three 
legs,  and  all  lame  on  the  fourth.  Thus  mounted,  I 
met  thee  on  my  road.  I  saluted  thee;  so  did  the 
beast,  for  his  head  well  nigh  touched  the  ground. 
Whereon  I  did  ask  thee,  in  a  Latin  play  of  words,  to 
give  me  at  least  a  quadruped,  not  a  tripod,  for  my 
journey.1  Gracious,  even  in  ire,  and  with  relenting 
laugh,  was  thine  answer.  My  liege,  thy  words  im- 
plied banishment — thy  laughter  pardon.  So  I  stayed." 

Despite  his  wrath,  William  could  scarce  repress  a 
smile;  but  recollecting  himself,  he  replied,  more  grave- 
ly, "  Peace  with  this  levity,  priest.  Doubtless  thou  art 
the  envoy  from  this  scrupulous  Mauger,  or  some  other 
of  my  gentle  clergy;  and  thou  comest,  as  doubtless, 
with  soft  words  and  whining  homilies.  It  is  in  vain. 
I  hold  the  Church  in  holy  reverence;  the  pontiff  knows 
it.  But  Matilda  of  Flanders  I  have  wooed;  and  Ma- 
.  tilda  of  Flanders  shall  sit  by  my  side  in  the  halls  of 
Rouen,  or  on  the  deck  of  my  war-ship,  till  it  anchors 
on  a  land  worthy  to  yield  a  new  domain  to  the  son  of 
the  Sea-king." 

"  In  the  halls  of  Rouen — and  it  may  be  on  the  throne 
of  England — shall  Matilda  reign  by  the  side  of  Will- 

1  Ex  pcn>ctusto  codice,  MS.  Chron.  Bee.  in  Vit.  Lanfranc, 
quoted  in  the  "  Archaeologia,"  vol.  xxxii.  p.  109.  The  joke, 
which  is  very  poor,  seems  to  have  turned  upon  pede  and 
quadrupeds;  it  is  a  little  altered  in  the  text. 


70  HAROLD 

iam,"  said  the  priest  in  a  clear,  low,  and  emphatic 
voice;  "and  it  was  to  tell  my  lord  the  Duke  that  I 
repent  me  of  my  first  unconsidered  obeisance  to  Mau- 
ger  as  my  spiritual  superior;  that  since  then  I  have 
myself  examined  canon  and  precedent;  and  though  the 
letter  of  the  law  be  against  thy  spousals,  it  comes  pre- 
cisely under  the  category  of  those  alliances  to  which 
the  fathers  of  the  Church  accord  dispensation: — it  is 
to  tell  thee  this,  that  I,  plain  Doctor  of  Laws  and  priest 
of  Pavia,  have  crossed  the  seas." 

"Ha  Rou!— Ha  Rou!"  cried  Taillefer,  with  his 
usual  bluffness,  and  laughing  with  great  glee,  "  why 
wouldst  thou  not  listen  to  me,  monseigneur?  " 

"  If  thou  deceivest  me  not,"  said  William,  in  sur- 
prise, "  and  thou  canst  make  good  thy  words,  no  prel- 
ate in  Neustria,  save  Odo  of  Bayeux,  shall  lift  his  head 
high  as  thine."  And  here  William,  deeply  versed  in 
the  science  of  men,  bent  his  eyes  keenly  upon  the  un- 
changing and  earnest  face  of  the  speaker.  "  Ah,"  he 
burst  out,  as  if  satisfied  with  the  survey,  "  and  my 
mind  tells  me  that  thou  speakest  not  thus  boldly  and 
calmly  without  ground  sufficient.  Man,  I  like  thee. 
Thy  name?  I  forget  it." 

"  Lanfranc  of  Pavia,  please  you  my  lord ;  called 
sometimes  '  Lanfranc  the  Scholar '  in  thy  cloister  of 
Bee.  Nor  misdeem  me,  that  I,  humble,  unmitred 
priest,  should  be  thus  bold.  In  birth  I  am  noble,  and 
my  kindred  stand  near  to  the  grace  of  our  ghostly 
pontiff;  to  the  pontiff  I  myself  am  not  unknown.  Did 
I  desire  honours,  in  Italy  I  might  seek  them;  it  is  not 
so.  I  crave  no  guerdon  for  the  service  I  proffer;  none 
but  this — leisure  and  books  in  the  Convent  of  Bee." 

"  Sit  down — nay,  sit,  man,"  said  William,  greatly 
interested,  but  still  suspicious.  "  One  riddle  only  I  ask 


HAROLD  71 

thee  to  solve,  before  I  give  thee  all  my  trust,  and  place 
my  very  heart  in  thy  hands.  Why,  if  thou  desirest 
not  rewards,  shouldst  thou  thus  care  to  serve  me — 
thou,  a  foreigner?" 

A  light,  brilliant  and  calm,  shone  in  the  eyes  of  the 
scholar,  and  a  blush  spread  over  his  pale  cheeks. 

"  My  Lord  Prince,  I  will  answer  in  plain  words. 
But  first  permit  me  to  be  the  questioner." 

The  priest  turned  towards  Fitzosborne,  who  had 
seated  himself  on  a  stool  at  William's  feet,  and,  leaning 
his  chin  on  his  hand,  listened  to  the  ecclesiastic,  not 
more  with  devotion  to  his  calling,  than  wonder  at  the 
influence  one  so  obscure  was  irresistibly  gaining  over 
his  own  martial  spirit,  and  William's  iron  craft. 

"  Lovest  thou  not,  William  Lord  of  Breteuil,  lovest 
thou  not  fame  for  the  sake  of  fame?" 

"  Sur  tnon  amc — yes !  "  said  the  Baron. 

"  And  thou,  Taillefer  the  minstrel,  lovest  thou  not 
song  for  the  sake  of  song?  " 

"  For  song  alone,"  replied  the  mighty  minstrel. 
"  More  gold  in  one  ringing  rhyme  than  in  all  the 
coffers  of  Christendom." 

"  And  marvellest  thou,  reader  of  men's  hearts,"  said 
the  scholar,  turning  once  more  to  William,  "  that  the 
student  loves  knowledge  for  the  sake  of  knowledge? 
Born  of  high  race,  poor  in  purse,  and  slight  of  thews, 
betimes  I  found  wealth  in  books,  and  drew  strength 
from  lore.  I  heard  of  the  Count  of  Rouen  and  the 
Normans,  as  a  prince  of  small  domain,  with  a  measure- 
less spirit,  a  lover  of  letters,  and  a  captain  in  war.  I 
came  to  thy  duchy,  I  noted  its  subjects  and  its  prince, 
and  the  words  of  Themistocles  rang  in  my  ear:  '  I  can- 
not play  the  lute,  but  I  can  make  a  small  state  great.' 
I  felt  an  interest  in  thy  strenuous  and  troubled  career. 


72  HAROLD 

I  believe  that  knowledge,  to  spread  amongst  the  na- 
tions, must  first  find  a  nursery  in  the  brain  of  kings; 
and  I  saw  in  the  deed-doer,  the  agent  of  the  thinker.  In 
those  espousals,  on  which  with  untiring  obstinacy  thy 
heart  is  set,  I  might  sympathise  with  thee;  perchance  " 
— (here  a  melancholy  smile  flitted  over  the  student's 
pale  lips),  "  perchance  even  as  a  lover:  priest  though 
I  be  now,  and  dead  to  human  love,  once  I  loved,  and 
I  know  what  it  is  to  strive  in  hope,  and  to  waste  in 
despair.  But  my  sympathy,  I  own,  was  more  given  to 
the  prince  than  to  the  lover.  It  was  natural  that  I, 
priest  and  foreigner,  should  obey  at  first  the  orders  of 
Mauger,  archprelate  and  spiritual  chief,  and  the  more 
so  as  the  law  was  with  him;  but  when  I  resolved  to 
stay  despite  thy  sentence  which  banished  me,  I  re- 
solved to  aid  thee;  for  if  with  Mauger  was  the  dead 
law,  with  thee  was  the  living  cause  of  man.  Duke 
William,  on  thy  nuptials  with  Matilda  of  Flanders  rests 
thy  duchy — rest,  perchance,  the  mightier  sceptres  that 
are  yet  to  come.  Thy  title  disputed,  thy  principality 
new  and  unestablished,  thou,  above  all  men,  must  link 
thy  new  race  with  the  ancient  line  of  kings  and  kaisars. 
Matilda  is  the  descendant  of  Charlemagne  and  Alfred. 
Thy  realm  is  insecure  as  long  as  France  undermines  it 
with  plots,  and  threatens  it  with  arms.  Marry  the 
daughter  of  Baldwin — and  thy  wife  is  the  niece  of 
Henry  of  France — thine  enemy  becomes  thy  kinsman, 
and  must,  perforce,  be  thine  ally.  This  is  not  all;  it 
were  strange,  looking  round  this  disordered  royalty 
of  England — a  childless  king,  who  loves  thee  better 
than  his  own  blood;  a  divided  nobility,  already  adopt- 
ing the  fashions  of  the  stranger,  and  accustomed  to 
shift  their  faith  from  Saxon  to  Dane,  and  Dane  to 
Saxon;  a  people  that  has  respect  indeed  for  brave 


HAROLD  73 

chiefs,  but,  seeing  new  men  rise  daily  from  new  houses, 
has  no  reverence  for  ancient  lines  and  hereditary 
names;  with  a  vast  mass  of  villeins  or  slaves  that  have 
no  interest  in  the  land  or  its  rulers;  strange,  seeing 
all  this,  if  thy  day-dreams  have  not  also  beheld  a  Nor- 
man sovereign  on  the  throne  of  Saxon  England.  And 
thy  marriage  with  the  descendant  of  the  best  and  most 
beloved  prince  that  ever  ruled  these  realms,  if  it  does 
not  give  thee  a  title  to  the  land,  may  help  to  conciliate 
its  affections,  and  to  fix  thy  posterity  in  the  halls  of 
their  mother's  kin.  Have  I  said  eno'  to  prove  why, 
for  the  sake  of  nations,  it  were  wise  for  the  pontiff  to 
stretch  the  harsh  girths  of  the  law?  why  I  might  be 
enabled  to  prove  to  the  Court  of  Rome  the  policy  of 
conciliating  the  love,  and  strengthening  the  hands,  of 
the  Norman  Count,  who  may  so  become  the  main  prop 
of  Christendom?  Yea,  have  I  said  eno'  to  prove  that 
the  humble  clerk  can  look  on  mundane  matters  with 
the  eye  of  a  man  who  can  make  small  states  great? " 

William  remained  speechless — his  hot  blood  thrilled 
with  a  half  superstitious  awe;  so  thoroughly  had  this 
obscure  Lombard  divined,  detailed  all  the  intricate 
meshes  of  that  policy  with  which  he  himself  had  inter- 
woven his  pertinacious  affection  for  the  Flemish  prin- 
cess, that  it  seemed  to  him  as  if  he  listened  to  the  echo 
of  his  own  heart,  or  heard  from  a  soothsayer  the  voice 
of  his  most  secret  thoughts. 

The  priest  continued: 

"  Wherefore,  thus  considering,  I  said  to  myself,  Now 
has  the  time  come,  Lanfranc  the  Lombard,  to  prove  to 
thee  whether  thy  self-boastings  have  been  a  vain  de- 
ceit, or  whether,  in  this  age  of  iron  and  amidst  this  lust 
of  gold,  thou,  the  penniless  and  the  feeble,  canst  make 
knowledge  and  wit  of  more  avail  to  the  destinies  of 


74  HAROLD 

kings  than  armed  men  and  filled  treasuries.  I  be- 
lieve in  that  power.  I  am  ready  for  the  test.  Pause, 
judge  from  what  the  Lord  of  Breteuil  hath  said  to 
thee,  what  will  be  the  defection  of  thy  lords  if  the  Pope 
confirm  the  threatened  excommunication  of  thine 
uncle?  Thine  armies  will  rot  from  thee;  thy  treasures 
will  be  like  dry  leaves  in  thy  coffers;  the  Duke  of  Bre- 
tagne  will  claim  thy  duchy  as  the  legitimate  heir  of 
thy  forefathers;  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  will  league 
with  the  King  of  France,  and  march  on  thy  faithless 
legion's  under  the  banner  of  the  Church.  The  hand- 
writing is  on  the  walls,  and  thy  sceptre  and  thy  crown, 
will  pass  away." 

William  set  his  teeth' firmly,  and  breathed  hard. 

"  But  send  me  to  Rome,  thy  delegate,  and  the  thun- 
der of  Mauger  shall  fall  powerless.  Marry  Matilda, 
bring  her  to  thy  halls,  place  her  on  thy  throne,  laugh 
to  scorn  the  interdict  of  thy  traitor  uncle,  and  rest  as- 
sured that  the  Pope  shall  send  thee  his  dispensation 
to  thy  spousals,  and  his  benison  on  thy  marriage-bed. 
And  when  this  be  done,  Duke  William,  give  me  not 
abbacies  and  prelacies;  multiply  books,  and  stablish 
schools,  and  bid  thy  servant  found  the  royalty  of 
knowledge,  as  thou  shalt  found  the  sovereignty  of 
war." 

The  Duke,  transported  from  himself,  leaped  up  and 
embraced  the  priest  with  his  vast  arms;  he  kissed  his 
cheeks,  he  kissed  his  forehead,  as,  in  those  days,  king 
kissed  king  with  "  the  kiss  of  peace." 

"  Lanfranc  of  Pavia,"  he  cried,  "  whether  thou  suc- 
ceed or  fail,  thou  hast  my  love  and  gratitude  ever- 
more. As  thou  speakest,  would  I  have  spoken,  had 
I  been  born,  framed,  and  reared  as  thou.  And,  verily, 
when  I  hear  thee,  I  blush  for  the  boasts  of  my  barba- 


HAROLD  75 

rous  pride,  that  no  man  can  wield  my  mace,  or  bend 
my  bow.  Poor  is  the  strength  of  body — a  web  of  law 
can  entangle  it,  and  a  word  from  a  priest's  mouth  can 
palsy.  But  thou! — let  me  look  at  thee." 

William  gazed  on  the  pale  face:  from  head  to  foot 
he  scanned  the  delicate,  slender  form,  and  then,  turn- 
ing away,  he  said  to  Fitzosborne: 

"  Thou,  whose  mailed  hand  hath  fell'd  a  war-steed, 
art  thou  not  ashamed  of  thyself?  The  day  is  coming, 
I  see  it  afar,  when  these  slight  men  shall  set  their  feet 
upon  our  corslets." 

He  paused  as  if  in  thought,  again  paced  the  room, 
and  stopped  before  the  crucifix,  and  image  of  the  Vir- 
gin, which  stood  in  a  niche  near  the  bed-head. 

"  Right,  noble  prince,"  said  the  priest's  low  voice, 
"  pause  there  for  a  solution  to  all  enigmas;  there  view 
the  symbol  of  all-enduring  power;  there,  learn  its  ends 
below — comprehend  the  account  it  must  yield  above. 
To  your  thoughts  and  your  prayers  we  leave  you." 

He  took  the  stalwart  arm  of  Taillefer,  as  he  spoke, 
and,  with  a  grave  obeisance  to  Fitzosborne,  left  the 
chamber. 


CHAPTER   III 

The  next  morning  William  was  long  closeted  alone 
with  Lanfranc, — that  man,  among  the  most  remark- 
able of  his  age,  01  whom  it  was  said,  that  "  to  compre- 
hend the  extent  of  his  talents,  one  must  be  Herodian 
in  grammar,  Aristotle  in  dialectics,  Cicero  in  rhet- 
oric, Augustine  and  Jerome  in  Scriptural  lore,"  * — and 

1  Ord.  Vital.  See  Note  on  Lanfranc,  at  the  end  of  the 
volume. 


76  HAROLD 

ere  the  noon  the  Duke's  gallant  and  princely  train  wert 
ordered  to  be  in  readiness  for  return  home. 

The  crowd  in  the  broad  space,  and  the  citizens  from 
their  boats  in  the  river,  gazed  on  the  knights  and 
steeds  of  that  gorgeous  company,  already  drawn  up 
and  awaiting  without  the  open  gates  the  sound  of  the 
trumpets  that  should  announce  the  Duke's  departure. 
Before  the  hall-door  in  the  inner  court  were  his  own 
men.  The  snow-white  steed  of  Odo;  the  alezan  of 
Fitzosborne;  and,  to  the  marvel  of  all,  a  small  palfrey 
plainly  caparisoned.  What  did  that  palfrey  amid  those 
steeds? — the  steeds  themselves  seemed  to  chafe  at  the 
companionship;  the  Duke's  charger  pricked  up  his 
ears  and  snorted;  the  Lord  of  Breteuil's  alezan  kicked 
out,  as  the  poor  nag  humbly  drew  near  to  make  ac- 
quaintance; and  the  prelate's  white  barb,  with  red 
vicious  eye,  and  ears  laid  down,  ran  fiercely  at  the  low- 
bred intruder,  with  difficulty  reined  in  by  the  squires, 
who  shared  the  beast's  amaze  and  resentment. 

Meanwhile  the  Duke  thoughtfully  took  his  way  to 
Edward's  apartments.  In  the  anteroom  were  many 
monks  and  many  knights:  but  conspicuous  amongst 
them  all  was  a  tall  and  stately  veteran,  leaning  on  a 
great  two-handed  sword,  and  whose  dress  and  fashion 
of  beard  were  those  of  the  last  generation,  the  men 
who  had  fought  with  Canute  the  Great  or  Edmund 
Ironsides.  So  grand  was  the  old  man's  aspect,  and 
so  did  he  contrast  in  appearance  the  narrow  garb  and 
shaven  chins  of  those  around,  that  the  Duke  was 
roused  from  his  reverie  at  the  sight,  and  marvelling 
why  one,  evidently  a  chief  of  high  rank,  had  neither 
graced  the  banquet  in  his  honour,  nor  been  presented 
to  his  notice,  he  turned  to  the  Earl  of  Hereford,  who 
approached  him  with  gay  salutation,  and  inquired  the 


HAROLD  77 

name  and  title  of  the  bearded  man  in  the  loose  flowing 
robe. 

"  Know  you  not,  in  truth?"  said  the  lively  Earl,  in 
some  wonder.  "  In  him  you  see  the  great  rival  of 
Godwin.  He  is  the  hero  of  the  Danes,  as  Godwin  is 
of  the  Saxons,  a  true  son  of  Odin,  Siward,  Earl  of  the 
Northumbrians."  1 

"  Notre  Dame  be  my  aid, — his  fame  hath  oft  filled 
my  ears,  and  I  should  have  lost  the  most  welcome  sight 
in  merrie  England  had  I  not  now  beheld  him." 

Therewith,  the  Duke  approached  courteously,  and, 
doffing  the  cap  he  had  hitherto  retained,  he  greeted 
the  old  hero  with  those  compliments  which  the  Nor- 
man had  already  learned  in  the  courts  of  the  Frank. 

The  stout  Earl  received  them  coldly,  and  replying 
in  Danish  to  William's  Romance-tongue,  he  said: 

"  Pardon,  Count  of  the  Normans,  if  these  old  lips 
cling  to  their  old  words.  Both  of  us,  methinks,  date 
our  lineage  from  the  lands  of  the  Norse.  Suffer  Si- 
ward  to  speak  the  language  the  sea-kings  spoke.  The 
old  oak  is  not  to  be  transplanted,  and  the  old  man 
keeps  the  ground  where  his  youth  took  root." 

The  Duke,  who  with  some  difficulty  comprehended 
the  general  meaning  of  Siward's  speech,  bit  his  lip,  but 
replied  courteously: 

"  The  youths  of  all  nations  may  learn  from  renowned 

1  Siward  was  almost  a  giant  (pcne  gigas  statura).  There 
are  some  curious  anecdotes  of  this  hero,  immortalised  by 
Shakspere,  in  the  Bromton  Chronicle.  His  grandfather  is  said 
to  have  been  a  bear,  who  fell  in  love  with  a  Danish  lady ;  and 
his  father,  Beorn,  retained  some  of  the  traces  of  the  parental 
physiognomy  in  a  pair  of  pointed  ears.  The  origin  of  this 
fable  seems  evident.  His  grandfather  was  a  Berserker;  for 
whether  that  name  be  derived,  as  is  more  generally  supposed, 
from  bare-sark, — or  rather  from  bear-sark,  that  is,  whether 
this  grisly  specimen  of  the  Viking  genus  fought  in  his  shirt 
or  his  bearskin,  the  name  equally  lends  itself  to  those  mysti- 
fications from  which  half  the  old  legends,  whether  of  Greece 
or  Norway,  are  derived. 


78  HAROLD 

age.  Much  doth  it  shame  me  that  I  cannot  commune 
with  thee  in  the  ancestral  tongue;  but  the  angels  at 
least  know  the  language  of  the  Norman  Christian,  and 
I  pray  them  and  the  saints  for  a  calm  end  to  thy  brave 
career." 

"  Pray  not  to  angel  or  saint  for  Siward  son  of 
Beorn,"  said  the  old  man  hastily;  "  let  me  not  have  a 
cow's  death,  but  a  warrior's;  die  in  my  mail  of  proof, 
axe  in  hand,  and  helm  on  head.  And  such  may  be  my 
death,  if  Edward  the  King  reads  my  rede  and  grants 
my  prayer." 

"I  have  influence  with  the  King,"  said  William; 
"  name  thy  wish,  that  I  may  back  it." 

"  The  fiend  forfend,"  said  the  grim  Earl,  "  that  a 
foreign  prince  should  sway  England's  King,  or  that 
thegn  and  earl  should  ask  other  backing  than  leal 
service  and  just  cause.  If  Edward  be  the  saint  men 
call  him,  he  will  loose  me  on  the  hell-wolf,  without 
other  cry  than  his  own  conscience." 

The  Duke  turned  inquiringly  to  Rolf;  who,  thus 
appealed  to,  said: 

"  Siward  urges  my  uncle  to  espouse  the  cause  of 
Malcolm  of  Cumbria  against  the  bloody  tyrant  Mac- 
beth; and  but  for  the  disputes  with  the  traitor  God- 
win, the  King  had  long  since  turned  his  arms  to  Scot- 
land." 

"  Call  not  traitors,  young  man,"  said  the  Earl,  in 
high  disdain,  "  those  who,  with  all  their  faults  and 
crimes,  have  placed  thy  kinsman  on  the  throne  of 
Canute." 

"  Hush,  Rolf,"  said  the  Duke,  observing  the  fierce 
young  Norman  about  to  reply  hastily.  "  But  me- 
thought,  though  my  knowledge  of  English  troubles  is 
but  scant,  that  Siward  was  the  sworn  foe  to  Godwin?  " 


HAROLD  79 

"  Foe  to  him  in  his  power,  friend  to  him  in  his 
wrongs,"  answered  Siward.  "  And  if  England  needs 
defenders  when  I  and  Godwin  are  in  our  shrouds, 
there  is  but  one  man  worthy  of  the  days  of  old,  and 
his  name  is  Harold,  the  outlaw." 

William's  face  changed  remarkably,  despite  all  his 
dissimulation;  and,  with  a  slight  inclination  of  his 
head,  he  strode  on  moody  and  irritated. 

"This  Harold!  this  Harold!"  he  muttered  to  him- 
self, "  all  brave  men  speak  to  me  of  this  Harold!  Even 
my  Norman  knights  name  him  with  reluctant  rever- 
ence, and  even  his  foes  do  him  honour; — verily  his 
shadow  is  cast  from  exile  over  all  the  land." 

Thus  murmuring,  he  passed  the  throng  with  less 
than  his  wonted  affable  grace,  and  pushing  back  the 
officers  who  wished  to  precede  him,  entered,  without 
ceremony,  Edward's  private  chamber. 

The  King  was  alone,  but  talking  loudly  to  himself, 
gesticulating  vehemently,  and  altogether  so  changed 
from  his  ordinary  placid  apathy  of  mien,  that  William 
drew  back  in  alarm  and  awe.  Often  had  he  heard  in- 
directly, that  of  late  years  Edward  was  said  to  see 
visions,  and  be  rapt  from  himself  into  the  world  of 
spirit  and  shadow;  and  such,  he  now  doubted  not, 
was  the  strange  paroxysm  of  which  he  was  made  the 
witness.  Edward's  eyes  were  fixed  on  him,  but  evi- 
dently without  recognising  his  presence;  the  King's 
hands  were  outstretched,  and  he  cried  aloud  in  a  voice 
of  sharp  anguish: 

"  Sanguclac,  Sanguclac! — the  Lake  of  Blood! — the 
waves  spread,  the  waves  redden!  Mother  of  mercy 
— where  is  the  ark? — where  the  Ararat? — Fly — fly— 
this  way — this — "  and  he  caught  convulsive  hold  of 
William's  arm.  "  No!  there  the  corpses  are  piled — 


8o  HAROLD 

high  and  higher — there  the  horse  of  the  Apocalypse 
tramples  the  dead  in  their  gore." 

In  great  horror,  William  took  the  King,  now  gasp- 
ing on  his  breast,  in  his  arms,  and  laid  him  on  his  bed, 
beneath  its  canopy  of  state,  all  blazoned  with  the  mart- 
lets and  cross  of  his  insignia.  Slowly  Edward  came 
to  himself,  with  heavy  sighs;  and  when  at  length  he 
sate  up  and  looked  round,  it  was  with  evident  uncon- 
sciousness of  what  had  passed  across  his  haggard  and 
wandering  spirit,  for  he  said,  with  his  usual  drowsy 
calmness: 

"  Thanks,  Guillaume,  bien  aime,  for  rousing  me  from 
unseasoned  sleep.  How  fares  it  with  thee?" 

"  Nay,  how  with  thee,  dear  friend  and  king?  thy 
dreams  have  been  troubled." 

"  Not  so;  I  slept  so  heavily,  methinks  I  could  not 
have  dreamed  at  all.  But  thou  art  clad  as  for  a  jour- 
ney— spur  on  thy  heel,  staff  in  thy  hand!  " 

"  Long  since,  O  dear  host,  I  sent  Odo  to  tell  thee 
of  the  ill  news  from  Normandy  that  compelled  me  to 
depart." 

"  I  remember — I  remember  me  now,"  said  Edward, 
passing  his  pale  womanly  fingers  over  his  forehead. 
"  The  heathen  rage  against  thee.  Ah !  my  poor 
brother,  a  crown  is  an  awful  head-gear.  While  yet 
time,  why  not  both  seek  some  quiet  convent,  and  put 
away  these  earthly  cares?" 

William  smiled  and  shook  his  head.  "  Nay,  holy 
Edward,  from  all  I  have  seen  of  convents,  it  is  a  dream 
to  think  that  the  monk's  serge  hides  a  calmer  breast 
than  the  warrior's  mail,  or  the  king's  ermine.  Now 
give  me  thy  benison,  for  I  go." 

He  knelt  as  he  spoke,  and  Edward  bent  his  hands 
over  his  head,  and  blessed  him.  Then,  taking  from 


"This  Harold!  this  Harold  1  all  brave  men  speak  to  me  of 
this  Harold." 


HAROLD  8l 

his  own  neck  a  collar  of  zimmes  (jewels  and  uncut 
gems),  of  great  price,  the  King  threw  it  over  the  broad 
throat  bent  before  him,  and  rising,  clapped  his  hands. 
A  small  door  opened,  giving  a  glimpse  of  the  oratory 
within,  and  a  monk  appeared. 

"  Father,  have  my  behests  been  fulfilled? — hath 
Hugoline,  my  treasurer,  dispensed  the  gifts  that  I 
spoke  of?  " 

"  Verily  yes ;  vault,  coffer,  and  garde-robe — stall 
and  meuse — are  well  nigh  drained,"  answered  the 
monk,  with  a  sour  look  at  the  Norman,  whose  native 
avarice  gleamed  in  his  dark  eyes  as  he  heard  the  an- 
swer. 

"  Thy  train  go  not  hence  empty-handed,"  said  Ed- 
ward fondly.  "  Thy  father's  halls  sheltered  the  exile, 
and  the  exile  forgets  not  the  sole  pleasure  of  a  king 
— the  power  to  requite.  We  may  never  meet  again, 
William, — age  creeps  over  me,  and  who  will  succeed 
to  my  thorny  throne  ?  " 

William  longed  to  answer, — to  tell  the  hope  that  con- 
sumed him, — to  remind  his  cousin  of  the  vague  prom- 
ise in  their  youth,  that  the  Norman  Count  should  suc- 
ceed to  that  "  thorny  throne:  "  but  the  presence  of  the 
Saxon  monk  repelled  him,  nor  was  there  in  Edward's 
uneasy  look  much  to  allure  him  on. 

"  But  peace,"  continued  the  King,  "  be  between 
thine  and  mine,  as  between  thee  and  me!  " 

"  Amen,"  said  the  Duke,  "  and  I  leave  thee  at  least 
free  from  the  proud  rebels  who  so  long  disturbed  thy 
reign.  This  House  of  Godwin,  thou  wilt  not  again 
let  it  tower  above  thy  palace?  " 

"  Nay,  the  future  is  with  God  and  his  saints;  "  an- 
swered Edward,  feebly.     "  But  Godwin  is  old — older 
than  I,  and  bowed  by  many  storms." 
VOL.  I.— 6 


82  HAROLD 

"  Ay,  his  sons  are  more  to  be  dreaded  and  kept  aloof 
—mostly  Harold!" 

"  Harold, — he  was  ever  obedient,  he  alone  of  his 
kith;  truly  my  soul  mourns  for  Harold,"  said  the  King, 
sighing. 

"  The  serpent's  egg  hatches  but  the  serpent  Keep 
thy  heel  on  it,"  said  William,  sternly. 

"  Thou  speakest  well,"  said  the  irresolute  prince, 
who  never  seemed  three  days  or  three  minutes  to- 
gether in  the  same  mind.  "  Harold  is  in  Ireland — 
there  let  him  rest:  better  for  all." 

"  For  all,"  said  the  Duke;  "  so  the  saints  keep  thee, 
O  royal  saint! " 

He  kissed  the  King's  hand,  and  strode  away  to  the 
hall  where  Odo,  Fitzosborne,  and  the  priest  Lanfranc 
awaited  him.  And  so  that  day,  halfway  towards  the 
fair  town  of  Dover,  rode  Duke  William,  and  by  the 
side  of  his  roan  barb  ambled  the  priest's  palfrey. 

Behind  came  his  gallant  train,  and  with  tumbrils 
and  sumpter-mules  laden  with  baggage,  and  enriched 
by  Edward's  gifts;  while  Welch  hawk&,  and  steeds  of 
great  price  from  the  pastures  of  Surrey  and  the  plains 
of  Cambridge  and  York,  attested  no  less  acceptably 
than  zimme,  and  golden  chain,  and  embroidered  robe, 
the  munificence  of  the  grateful  King.1 

As  they  journeyed  on,  and  the  fame  of  the  Duke's 
coming  was  sent  abroad  by  the  bodes  or  messengers, 
despatched  to  prepare  the  towns  through  which  he  was 
to  pass  for  an  arrival  sooner  than  expected,  the  more 
highborn  youths  of  England,  especially  those  of  the 
party  counter  to  that  of  the  banished  Godwin,  came 
round  the  ways  to  gaze  upon  that  famous  chief,  who, 
from  the  age  of  fifteen,  had  wielded  the  most  redoubt- 
1  Wace. 


HAROLD  83 

able  sword  of  Christendom.  And  those  youths  wore 
the  Norman  garb:  and  in  the  towns,  Norman  counts 
held  his  stirrup  to  dismount,  and  Norman  hosts  spread 
the  fastidious  board;  and  when,  at  the  eve  of  the  next 
day,  William  saw  the  pennant  of  one  of  his  own  fa- 
vourite chiefs  waving  in  the  van  of  armed  men,  that 
sallied  forth  from  the  towers  of  Dover  (the  key  of  the 
coast)  he  turned  to  the  Lombard,  still  by  his  side,  and 
said: 

"  Is  not  England  part  of  Normandy  already?" 

And  the  Lombard  answered: 

"  The  fruit  is  well  nigh  ripe,  and  the  first  breeze  will 
shake  it  to  thy  feet.  Put  not  out  thy  hand  too  soon. 
Let  the  wind  do  its  work." 

And  the  Duke  made  reply: 

"  As  thou  thinkest,  so  think  I.  And  there  is  but 
one  wind  in  the  halls  of  heaven  that  can  waft  the  fruit 
to  the  feet  of  another." 

"And  that?"  asked  the  Lombard. 

"  Is  the  wind  that  blows  from  the  shores  of  Ireland, 
when  it  fills  the  sails  of  Harold,  son  of  Godwin." 

"  Thou  fearest  that  man,  and  why?  "  asked  the  Lom- 
bard with  interest. 

And  the  Duke  answered: 

"  Because  in  the  breast  of  Harold  beats  the  heart  of 
England." 


CHAPTER  I 

And  all  went  to  the  desire  of  Duke  William  the  Nor- 
man. With  one  hand  he  curbed  his  proud  vassals, 
and  drove  back  his  fierce  foes.  With  the  other,  he  led 
to  the  altar  Matilda,  the  maid  of  Flanders;  and  all 
happened  as  Lanfranc  had  foretold.  William's  most 
formidable  enemy,  the  King  of  France,  ceased  to  con- 
spire against  his  new  kinsman;  and  the  neighbouring 
princes  said,  "  The  Bastard  hath  become  one  of  us 
since  he  placed  by  his  side  the  descendant  of  Charle- 
magne." And  Mauger,  Archbishop  of  Rouen,  ex- 
communicated the  Duke  and  his  bride,  and  the  ban  fell 
idle;  for  Lanfranc  sent  from  Rome  the  Pope's  dispen- 
sation and  blessing,1  conditionally  only  that  bride  and 
bridegroom  founded  each  a  church.  And  Mauger 
was  summoned  before  the  synod,  and  accused  of  un- 
clerical  crimes;  and  they  deposed  him  from  his  state, 
and  took  from  him  abbacies  and  sees.  And  England 
every  day  waxed  more  and  more  Norman;  and  Ed- 
ward grew  more  feeble  and  infirm,  and  there  seemed 
not  a  barrier  between  the  Norman  Duke  and  the  Eng- 
lish throne,  when  suddenly  the  wind  blew  in  the  halls 
of  heaven,  and  filled  the  sails  of  Harold  the  Earl. 

1  See  Note  (E),  at  the  end  of  the  volume  (foot-note  on  the 
date  of  William's  marriage). 

84 


HAROLD  85 

And  his  ships  came  to  the  mouth  of  the  Severn. 
And  the  people  of  Somerset  and  Devon,  a  mixed  and 
mainly  a  Celtic  race,  who  bore  small  love  to  the  Sax- 
ons, drew  together  against  him,  and  he  put  them  to 
flight.1 

Meanwhile,  Godwin  and  his  sons  Sweyn,  Tostig, 
and  Gurth,  who  had  taken  refuge  in  that  very  Flan- 
ders from  which  William  the  Duke  had  won  his  bride, 
— (for  Tostig  had  wed,  previously,  the  sister  of  Ma- 
tilda, the  rose  of  Flanders;  and  Count  Baldwin  had, 
for  his  sons-in-law,  both  Tostig  and  William,) — mean- 
while, I  say,  these,  not  holpen  by  the  Count  Baldwin, 
but  helping  themselves,  lay  at  Bruges,  ready  to  join 
Harold  the  Earl.  And  Edward,  advised  of  this  from 
the  anxious  Norman,  caused  forty  ships 2  to  be 
equipped,  and  put  them  under  command  of  Rolf,  Earl 
of  Hereford.  The  ships  lay  at  Sandwich  in  wait  for 
Godwin.  But  the  old  Earl  got  from  them,  and  landed 
quietly  on  the  southern  coast.  And  the  fort  of  Has- 
tings opened  to  his  coming  with  a  shout  from  its 
armed  men. 

All  the  boatmen,  all  the  mariners,  far  and  near, 
thronged  to  him,  with  sail  and  with  shield,  with  sword 
and  with  oar.  All  Kent  (the  foster-mother  of  the  Sax- 
ons) sent  forth  the  cry,  "  Life  or  death  with  Earl  God- 
win." *  Fast  over  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land, 
went  the  bodes  4  and  riders  of  the  Earl;  and  hosts,  with 
one  voice,  answered  the  cry  of  the  children  of  Horsa, 
"  Life  or  death  with  Earl  Godwin."  And  the  ships 
of  King  Edward,  in  dismay,  turned  flag  and  prow  to 
London,  and  the  fleet  of  Harold  sailed  on.  So  the 

1  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle.         *  Some  writers  say  fifty. 
•Hovenden.  *  Bodes,  i.e.  messengers. 


86  HAROLD 

old  Earl  met  his  young  son  on  the  deck  of  a  war-ship, 
that  had  once  borne  the  Raven  of  the  Dane. 

Swelled  and  gathering  sailed  the  armament  of  the 
English  men.  Slow  up  the  Thames  it  sailed,  and  on 
either  shore  marched  tumultuous  the  swarming  mul- 
titudes. And  King  Edward  sent  after  more  help,  but 
it  came  up  very  late.  So  the  fleet  of  the  Earl  nearly 
faced  the  Julliet  Keape  of  London,  and  abode  at 
Southwark  till  the  flood-tide  came  up.  When  he  had 
mustered  his  host,  then  came  the  flood-tide.1 


CHAPTER  II 

King  Edward  sate,  not  on  his  throne,  but  on  a  chair 
of  state,  in  the  presence-chamber  of  his  palace  of  West- 
minster. His  diadem,  with  the  three  zimmes  shaped 
into  a  triple  trefoil 2  on  his  brow,  his  sceptre  in  his 
right  hand.  His  royal  robe,  tight  to  the  throat,  with 
a  broad  band  of  gold,  flowed  to  his  feet;  and  at  the 
fold  gathered  round  the  left  knee,  where  now  the  kings 
of  England  wear  the  badge  of  St.  George,  was  em- 
broidered a  simple  cross.3  In  that  chamber  met  the 
thegns  and  proceres  of  his  realm;  but  not  they  alone. 
No  national  Witan  there  assembled,  but  a  council  of 
war,  composed  at  least  one  third  part  of  Normans — 
counts,  knights,  prelates,  and  abbots  of  high  degree. 

And  King  Edward  looked  a  king!  The  habitual 
lethargic  meekness  had  vanished  from  his  face,  and  the 
large  crown  threw  a  shadow,  like  a  frown,  over  his 
brow.  His  spirit  seemed  to  have  risen  from  the 

1  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle. 

2  Or  Fleur-de-lis,  which  seems  to  have  been  a  common  form 
of  ornament  with  the  Saxon  kings.  *  Bayeux  Tapsstry. 


HAROLD  87 

weight  it  took  from  the  sluggish  blood  of  his  father, 
Ethelred  the  Unready,  and  to  have  remounted  to  the 
brighter  and  earlier  sources  of  ancestral  heroes. 
Worthy  in  that  hour  he  seemed  to  boast  the  blood 
and  wield  the  sceptre  of  Athelstan  and  Alfred.1 

Thus  spoke  the  King: 

"  Right  worthy  and  beloved,  my  ealdermen,  earls, 
and  thegns  of  England;  noble  and  familiar,  my  friends 
and  guests,  counts  and  chevaliers  of  Normandy,  my 
mother's  land;  and  you,  our  spiritual  chiefs,  above 
all  ties  of  birth  and  country,  Christendom  your  com- 
mon appanage,  and  from  Heaven  your  seignories  and 
fiefs, — hear  the  words  of  Edward,  the  King  of  England 
under  grace  of  the  Most  High.  The  rebels  are  in  our 
river;  open  yonder  lattice,  and  you  will  see  the  piled 
shields  glittering  from  their  barks,  and  hear  the  hum 
of  their  hosts.  Not  a  bow  has  yet  been  drawn,  not 
a  sword  left  its  sheath;  yet  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river  are  our  fleets  of  forty  sail — along  the  strand,  be- 
tween our  palace  and  the  gates  of  London,  are  arrayed 
our  armies.  And  this  pause  because  Godwin  the 
traitor  hath  demanded  truce  and  his  nuncius  waits 
without.  Are  ye  willing  that  we  should  hear  the 
message?  or  would  ye  rather  that  we  dismiss  the 
messenger  unheard,  and  pass  at  once,  to  rank  and  to 
sail,  the  war-cry  of  a  Christian  king,  '  Holy  Crosse 
and  our  Lady! ' ' 

The  King  ceased,  his  left  hand  grasping  firm  the 
leopard  head  carved  on  his  throne,  and  his  sceptre 
untrembling  in  his  lifted  hand. 

A  murmur  of  Notre  Dame,  Notre  Dame,  the  war- 
cry  of  the  Normans,  was  heard  amongst  the  stranger- 
knights  of  the  audience;  but  haughty  and  arrogant  as 

1  See  Note  (F),  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


88  HAROLD 

those  strangers  were,  no  one  presumed  to  take  prece- 
dence, in  England's  danger,  of  men  English  born. 

Slowly  then  rose  Aired,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  the 
worthiest  prelate  in  all  the  land.1 

"  Kingly  son,"  said  the  bishop,  "  evil  is  the  strife 
between  men  of  the  same  blood  and  lineage,  nor  jus-  , 
lifted  but  by  extremes,  which  have  not  yet  been  made 
clear  to  us.  And  ill  would  it  sound  throughout  Eng- 
land were  it  said  that  the  King's  council  gave,  per- 
chance, his  city  of  London  to  sword  and  fire,  and  rent 
his  land  in  twain,  when  a  word  in  season  might  have 
disbanded  yon  armies,  and  given  to  your  throne  a 
submissive  subject,  where  now  you  are  mena'ced  by 
a  formidable  rebel.  Wherefore,  I  say,  admit  the  nun- 
cius." 

Scarcely  had  Aired  resumed  his  seat,  before  Robert 
the  Norman  prelate  of  Canterbury  started  up, — a  man, 
it  was  said,  of  worldly  learning — and  exclaimed: 

"  To  admit  the  messenger  is  to  approve  the  treason. 
I  do  beseech  the  King  to  consult  only  his  royal  heart 
and  royal  honour.  Reflect — each  moment  of  delay 
swells  the  rebel  hosts,  strengthens  their  cause;  of  each 
moment  they  avail  themselves  to  allure  to  their  side 
the  misguided  citizens.  Delay  but  proves  our  own 
weakness;  a  king's  name  is  a  tower  of  strength,  but 
only  when  fortified  by  a  king's  authority.  Give  the 
signal  for — war  I  call  it  not — no — for  chastisement 
and  justice." 

1  The  York  Chronicle,  written  by  an  Englishman,  Stubbs, 
gives  this  eminent  person  an  excellent  character  as  peace- 
maker. "  He  could  make  the  warmest  friends  of  foes  the 
most  hostile."  "  De  inimicissimis,  amicissimos  faceret."  This 
gentle  priest  had  yet  the  courage  to  curse  the  Norman  Con- 
queror in  the  midst  of  his  barons.  That  scene  is  not  within 
the  range  of  this  work,  but  it  is  very  strikingly  told  in  the 
Chronicle. 


HAROLD  89 

"  As  speaks  my  brother  of  Canterbury,  speak  I," 
said  William,  Bishop  of  London,  another  Norman. 

But  then  there  rose  up  a  form  at  whose  rising  all 
murmurs  were  hushed. 

Grey  and  vast,  as  some  image  of  a  gone  and  migh- 
tier age  towered  over  all,  Siward,  the  son  of  Beorn, 
the  great  Earl  of  Northumbria. 

"  We  have  naught  to  do  with  the  Normans.  Were 
they  on  the  river,  and  our  countrymen,  Dane  or  Saxon, 
alone  in  this  hall,  small  doubt  of  the  King's  choice, 
and  niddering  were  the  man  who  spoke  of  peace;  but 
when  Norman  advises  the  dwellers  of  England  to  go 
forth  and  slay  each  other,  no  sword  of  mine  shall  be 
drawn  at  his  hest.  Who  shall  say  that  Siward  of  the 
Strong  Arm,  the  grandson  of  the  Berserker,  ever 
turned  from  a  foe?  The  foe,  son  of  Ethelred,  sits  in 
these  halls;  I  fight  thy  battles  when  I  say  Nay  to  the 
Norman!  Brothers-in-arms  of  the  kindred  race  and 
common  tongue,  Dane  and  Saxon  long  intermingled, 
proud  alike  of  Canute  the  glorious  and  Alfred  the  wise, 
ye  will  hear  the  man  whom  Godwin,  our  countryman, 
sends  to  us;  he  at  least  will  speak  our  tongue,  and  he 
knows  our  laws.  If  the  demand  he  delivers  be  just, 
such  as  a  king  should  grant,  and  our  Witan  should 
hear,  woe  to  him  who  refuses ;  if  unjust  be  the  demand, 
shame  to  him  who  accedes.  Warrior  sends  to  warrior, 
countryman  to  countryman;  hear  we  as  countrymen, 
and  judge  as  warriors.  I  have  said." 

The  utmost  excitement  and  agitation  followed  the 
speech  of  Siward, — unanimous  applause  from  the  Sax- 
ons, even  those  who  in  times  of  peace  were  most  under 
the  Norman  contagion;  but  no  words  can  paint  the 
wrath  and  scorn  of  the  Normans.  They  spoke  loud 
and  many  at  a  time;  the  greatest  disorder  prevailed. 


90  HAROLD 

But  the  majority  being  English,  there  could  be  no 
doubt  as  to  the  decision;  and  Edward,  to  whom  the 
emergence  gave  both  a  dignity  and  presence  of  mind 
rare  to  him,  resolved  to  terminate  the  dispute  at  once. 
He  stretched  forth  his  sceptre,  and  motioning  to  his 
chamberlain,  bade  him  introduce  the  nuncius.1 

A  blank  disappointment,  not  unmixed  with  appre- 
hensive terror,  succeeded  the  turbulent  excitement  of 
the  Normans;  for  well  they  knew  that  the  conse- 
quences, if  not  condition,  of  negotiations,  would  be 
their  own  downfall  and  banishment  at  the  least; — 
happy,  it  might  be,  to  escape  massacre  at  the  hands 
of  the  exasperated  multitude. 

The  door  at  the  end  of  the  room  opened,  and  the 
nuncius  appeared.  He  was  a  sturdy,  broad-shouldered 
man,  of  middle  age,  and  in  the  long  loose  garb  orig- 
inally national  with  the  Saxon,  though  then  little  in 
vogue ;  his  beard  thick  and  fair,  his  eyes  grey  and  calm 
— a  chief  of  Kent,  where  all  the  prejudices  of  his  race 
were  strongest,  and  whose  yeomanry  claimed  in  war 
the  hereditary  right  to  be  placed  in  the  front  of  battle. 

He  made  his  manly  but  deferential  salutation  to.  the 
august  council  as  he  approached;  and,  pausing  mid- 
way between  the  throne  and  door,  he  fell  on  his 
knees  without  thought  of  shame,  for  the  King  to 
whom  he  knelt  was  the  descendant  of  Woden,  and  the 
heir  of  Hengist.  At  a  sign  and  a  brief  word  from  the 
King,  still  on  his  knees,  Vebba,  the  Kentman,  spoke. 

"To  Edward,  son  of  Ethel  red,  his  most  gracious 
king  and  lord,  Godwin,  son  of  Wolnoth,  sends  faith- 
ful and  humble  greeting,  by  Vebba,  the  thegn-born. 

1  Heralds,  though  probably  the  word  is  Saxon,  were  not 
then  known  in  the  modern  acceptation  of  the  word.  The  name 
given  to  the  messenger  or  envoy  who  fulfilled  that  office  was 
bode  or  nuncius.  See  Note  (G),  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


HAROLD  91 

He  prays  the  King  to  hear  him  in  kindness,  and  judge 
of  him  with  mercy.  Not  against  the  King  comes  he 
hither  with  ships  and  arms;  but  against  those  only 
who  would  stand  between  the  King's  heart  and  the 
subject's:  those  who  have  divided  a  house  against 
itself,  and  parted  son  and  father,  man  and  wife." 

At  those  last  words  Edward's  sceptre  trembled  in 
his  hand,  and  his  face  grew  almost  stern. 

"  Of  the  King,  Godwin  but  prays  with  all  submiss 
and  earnest  prayer,  to  reverse  the  unrighteous  out- 
lawry against  him  and  his ;  to  restore  him  and  his  sons 
their  just  possessions  and  well-won  honours;  and, 
more  than  all,  to  replace  them  where  they  have  sought 
by  loving  service  not  unworthily  to  stand,  in  the  grace 
of  their  born  lord  and  in  the  van  of  those  who  would 
uphold  the  laws  and  liberties  of  England.  This  done 
— the  ships  sail  back  to  their  haven;  the  thegn  seeks 
his  homestead  and  the  ceorl  returns  to  the  plough; 
for  with  Godwin  are  no  strangers;  and  his  force  is 
but  the  love  of  his  countrymen." 

"  Hast  thou  said?  "  quoth  the  King. 

"  I  have  said." 

"  Retire,  and  await  our  answer." 

The  Thegn  of  Kent  was  then  led  back  into  an  ante- 
room, in  which,  armed  from  head  to  heel  in  ring-mail, 
were  several  Normans  whose  youth  or  station  did  not 
admit  them  into  the  council,  but  still  of  no  mean  in- 
terest in  the  discussion,  from  the  lands  and  possessions 
they  had  already  contrived  to  gripe  out  of  the  de- 
mesnes of  the  exiles; — burning  for  battle  and  eager 
for  the  word.  Amongst  these  was  Mallet  de  Graville. 

The  Norman  valour  of  this  young  knight  was,  as 
we  have  seen,  guided  by  Norman  intelligence;  and  he 
had  not  disdained,  since  William's  departure,  to  study 


92  HAROLD 

the  tongue  of  the  country  in  which  he  hoped  to  ex- 
change his  mortgaged  tower  on  the  Seine,  for  some 
fair  barony  on  the  Humber  or  the  Thames. 

While  the  rest  of  his  proud  countrymen  stood  aloof, 
with  eyes  of  silent  scorn,  from  the  homely  nuncius, 
Mallet  approached  him  with  courteous  bearing,  and 
said  in  Saxon: 

"  May  I  crave  to  know  the  issue  of  thy  message 
from  the  reb — that  is  from  the  doughty  Earl?" 

"  I  wait  to  learn  it,"  said  Vebba,  bluffly. 

"They  heard  thee  throughout,  then?" 

"  Throughout." 

"  Friendly  Sir,"  said  the  Sire  de  Graville,  seeking 
to  subdue  the  tone  of  irony  habitual  to  him,  and  ac- 
quired, perhaps,  from  his  maternal  ancestry,  the 
Franks.  "  Friendly  and  peace-making  Sir,  dare  I  so 
far  venture  to  intrude  on  the  secrets  of  thy  mission  as 
to  ask  if  Godwin  demands,  among  other  reasonable 
items,  the  head  of  thy  humble  servant — not  by  name 
indeed,  for  my  name  is  as  yet  unknown  to  him — but 
as  one  of  the  unhappy  class  called  Normans?  " 

"  Had  Earl  Godwin,"  returned  the  nuncius, 
"  thought  fit  to  treat  for  peace  by  asking  vengeance, 
he  would  have  chosen  another  spokesman.  The  Earl 
asks  but  his  own;  and  thy  head  is  not,  I  trow,  a  part 
of  his  goods  and  chattels." 

"  That  is  comforting,"  said  Mallet.  "  Marry,  I 
thank  thee,  Sir  Saxon;  and  thou  speakest  like  a  brave 
man  and  an  honest.  And  if  we  fall  to  blows,  as  I 
suspect  we  shall,  I  should  deem  it  a  favour  of  our 
Lady  the  Virgin  if  she  send  thee  across  my  way.  Next 
to  a  fair  friend  I  love  a  bold  foe." 

Vebba  smiled,  for  he  liked  the  sentiment,  and  the 
tone  and  air  of  the  young  knight  pleased  his  rough 
mind,  despite  his  prejudices  against  the  stranger. 


HAROLD  93 

Encouraged  by  the  smile,  Mallet  seated  himself  on 
the  corner  of  the  long  table  that  skirted  the  room,  and 
with  a  debonnair  gesture  invited  Vebba  to  do  the 
same;  then  looking  at  him  gravely,  he  resumed: 

"  So  frank  and  courteous  thou  art,  Sir  Envoy,  that 
I  yet  intrude  on  thee  my  ignorant  and  curious  ques- 
tions." 

"  Speak  out,  Norman." 

"  How  comes  it,  then,  that  you  English  so  love 
this  Earl  Godwin? — Still  more,  why  think  you  it  right 
and  proper  that  King  Edward  should  love  him  too? 
It  is  a  question  I  have  often  asked,  and  to  which  I  am 
not  likely  in  these  halls  to  get  answer  satisfactory. 
If  I  know  aught  of  your  troublous  history,  this  same 
Earl  has  changed  sides  oft  eno';  first  for  the  Saxon, 
then  for  Canute  the  Dane — Canute  dies,  and  your 
friend  takes  up  arms  for  the  Saxon  again.  He  yields 
to  the  advice  of  your  Witan,  and  sides  with  Hardi- 
canute  and  Harold,  the  Danes — a  letter,  nathless,  is 
written  as  from  Emma,  the  mother  to  the  young  Saxon 
princes,  Edward  and  Alfred,  inviting  them  over  to  Eng- 
land, and  promising  aid;  the  saints  protect  Edward, 
who  continues  to  say  aves  in  Normandy — Alfred 
comes  over,  Earl  Godwin  meets  him,  and,  unless  be- 
lied, does  him  homage,  and  swears  to  him  faith.  Nay, 
listen  yet.  This  Godwin,  whom  ye  love  so,  then  leads 
Alfred  and  his  train  into  the  ville  of  Guiklford,  I  think 
ye  call  it, — fair  quarters  enow.  At  the  dead  of  the 
night  rush  in  King  Harold's  men,  seize  prince  and 
follower,  six  hundred  men  in  all;  and  next  morning, 
saving  only  every  tenth  man,  they  are  tortured  and 
put  to  death.  The  prince  is  borne  off  to  London,  and 
shortly  afterwards  his  eyes  are  torn  out  in  the  Islet  of 
Ely,  and  he  dies  of  the  anguish!  That  ye  should  love 


94  HAROLD 

Earl  Godwin  withal  may  be  strange,  but  yet  possible. 
But  is  it  possible,  cher  Envoy,  for  the  King  to  love 
the  man  who  thus  betrayed  his  brother  to  the  shan> 
bles?" 

"  All  this  is  a  Norman  fable,"  said  the  Thegn  of 
Kent,  with  a  disturbed  visage;  "and  Godwin  cleared 
himself  on  oath  of  all  share  in  the  foul  murder  of  Al- 
fred." 

"  The  oath,  I  have  heard,  was  backed,"  said  the 
knight  drily,  "  by  a  present  to  Hardicanute,  who  after 
the  death  of  King  Harold  resolved  to  avenge  the  black 
butchery;  a  present,  I  say,  of  a  gilt  ship,  manned  by 
fourscore  warriors  with  gold-hilted  swords,  and  gilt 
helms. — But  let  this  pass." 

"  Let  it  pass,"  echoed  Vebba  with  a  sigh.  "  Bloody 
were  those  times,  and  unholy  their  secrets." 

"  Yet  answer  me  still,  why  love  you  Earl  Godwin  ? 
He  hath  changed  sides  from  party  to  party,  and  in 
each  change  won  lordships  and  lands.  He  is  ambi- 
tious and  grasping,  ye  all  allow;  for  the  ballads  sung 
in  your  streets  liken  him  to  the  thorn  and  the  bramble, 
at  which  the  sheep  leaves  his  wool.  He  is  haughty 
and  overbearing.  Tell  me,  O  Saxon,  frank  Saxon, 
why  you  love  Godwin  the  Earl?  Fain  would  I  know; 
for,  please  the  saints  (and  you  and  your  Earl  so  per- 
mitting), I  mean  to  live  and  die  in  this  merrie  Eng- 
land; and  it  would  be  pleasant  to  learn  that  I  have 
but  to  do  as  Earl  Godwin,  in  order  to  win  love  from  the 
English." 

The  stout  Vebba  looked  perplexed;  but  after  strok- 
ing his  beard  thoughtfully,  he  answered  thus: 

"  Though  of  Kent,  and  therefore  in  his  earldom,  I 
am  not  one  of  Godwin's  especial  party;  for  that  reason 
was  I  chosen  his  bode.  Those  who  are  under  him 


HAROLD  95 

doubtless  love  a  chief  liberal  to  give  and  strong  to  pro- 
tect. The  old  age  of  a  great  leader  gathers  rever- 
ence, as  an  oak  gathers  moss.  But  to  me,  and  those 
like  me,  living  peaceful  at  home,  shunning  courts,  and 
tempting  not  broils,  Godwin  the  man  is  not  dear — it 
is  Godwin  the  thing." 

"  Though  I  do  my  best  to  know  your  language," 
said  the  knight,  "  ye  have  phrases  that  might  puzzle 
King  Solomon.  What  meanest  thou  by  '  Godwin  the 
thing'?" 

"  That  which  to  us  Godwin  only  seems  to  uphold. 
We  love  justice;  whatever  his  offences,  Godwin  was 
banished  unjustly.  We  love  our  laws;  Godwin  was 
dishonoured  by  maintaining  them.  We  love  Eng- 
land, and  are  devoured  by  strangers;  Godwin's  cause 
is  England's,  and — stranger,  forgive  me  for  not  con- 
cluding." 

Then  examining  the  young  Norman  with  a  look  of 
rough  compassion,  he  laid  his  large  hand  upon  the 
knight's  shoulder  and  whispered: 

"  Take  my  advice — and  fly." 

"  Fly!  "  said  De  Graville,  reddening.  "  Is  it  to  fly, 
think  you,  that  I  have  put  on  my  mail,  and  girded  my 
sword  ?  " 

"  Vain — vain !  Wasps  are  fierce,  but  the  swarm  is 
doomed  when  the  straw  is  kindled.  I  tell  you  this 
— fly  in  time,  and  you  are  safe;  but  let  the  King  be  so 
misguided  as  to  count  on  arms,  and  strive  against  yon 
multitude,  and  verily  before  nightfall  not  one  Norman 
will  be  found  alive  within  ten  miles  of  the  city.  Look 
to  it,  youth!  Perhaps  thou  hast  a  mother — let  her 
not  mourn  a  son !  " 

Before  the  Norman  could  shape  into  Saxon  suffi- 
ciently polite  and  courtly  his  profound  and  indignant 


9<5  HAROLD 

disdain  of  the  counsel,  his  sense  of  the  impertinence 
with  which  his  shoulder  had  been  profaned,  and  his 
mother's  son  had  been  warned,  the  nuncius  was  again 
summoned  into  the  presence-chamber.  Nor  did  he 
return  into  the  ante-room,  but  conducted  forthwith 
from  the  council — his  brief  answer  received — to  the 
stairs  of  the  palace,  he  reached  the  boat  in  which  he 
had  come,  and  was  rowed  back  to  the  ship  that  held 
the  Earl  and  his  sons. 

Now  this  was  the  manoeuvre  of  Godwin's  array.  His 
vessels  having  passed  London  Bridge,  had  rested 
awhile  on  the  banks  of  the  Southward  suburb  (Suth- 
weorde) — since  called  Southwark — and  the  King's 
ships  lay  to  the  north;  but  the  fleet  of  the  Earl's,  after 
a  brief  halt,  veered  majestically  round,  and  coming 
close  to  the  palace  of  Westminster,  inclined  north- 
ward, as  if  to  hem  the  King's  ships.  Meanwhile  the 
land  forces  drew  up  close  to  the  Strand,  almost  within 
bow-shot  of  the  King's  troops,  that  kept  the  ground 
inland;  thus  Vebba  saw  before  him,  so  near  as  scarcely 
to  be  distinguished  from  each  other,  on  the  river  the 
rival  fleets,  on  the  shore  the  rival  armaments. 

High  above  all  the  vessels  towered  the  majestic 
bark,  or  aesca,  that  had  borne  Harold  from  the  Irish 
shores.  Its  fashion  was  that  of  the  ancient  sea-kings, 
to  one  of  whom  it  had  belonged.  Its  curved  and 
mighty  prow,  richly  gilded,  stood  out  far  above  the 
waves:  the  prow,  the  head  of  the  sea-snake;  the  stern 
its  spire;  head  and  spire  alike  glittering  in  the  sun. 

The  boat  drew  up  to  the  lofty  side  of  the  vessel,  a 
ladder  was  lowered,  the  nuncius  ascended  lightly  and 
stood  on  deck.  At  the  farther  end  grouped  the  sail- 
ors, few  in  number,  and  at  respectful  distance  from  the 
Earl  and  his  sons. 


HAROLD  97 

Godwin  himself  was  but  half  armed.  His  head  was 
bare,  nor  had  he  other  weapon  of  offence  than  the  gilt 
battle-axe  of  the  Danes — weapon  as  much  of  office  as 
of  war;  but  his  broad  breast  was  covered  with  the  ring 
mail  of  the  time.  His  stature  was  lower  than  that  of 
any  of  his  sons ;  nor  did  his  form  exhibit  greater  phys- 
ical strength  than  that  of  a  man,  well  shaped,  robust, 
and  deep  of  chest,  who  still  preserved  in  age  the  pith 
and  sinew  of  mature  manhood.  Neither,  indeed,  did 
legend  or  fame  ascribe  to  that  eminent  personage 
those  romantic  achievements,  those  feats  of  purely  an- 
imal prowess,  which  distinguished  his  rival,  Siward. 
Brave  he  was,  but  brave  as  a  leader;  those  faculties  in 
which  he  appears  to  have  excelled  all  his  contempo- 
raries, were  more  analogous  to  the  requisites  of  suc- 
cess in  civilised  times,  than  those  which  won  renown 
of  old.  And  perhaps  England  was  the  only  country 
then  in  Europe  which  could  have  given  to  those  facul- 
ties their  fitting  career.  He  possessed  essentially  the 
arts  of  party;  he  knew  how  to  deal  with  vast  masses 
of  mankind;  he  could  carry  along  with  his  interests 
the  fervid  heart  of  the  multitude;  he  had  in  the  high- 
est degree  that  gift,  useless  in  most  other  lands — in 
all  lands  where  popular  assemblies  do  not  exist — the 
gift  of  popular  eloquence.  Ages  elapsed,  after  the 
Norman  conquest,  ere  eloquence  again  became  a 
power  in  England.1 

But  like  all  men  renowned  for  eloquence,  he  went 
with  the  popular  feeling  of  his  times;  he  embodied  its 
passions,  its  prejudices — but  also  that  keen  sense  of 
self-interest,  which  is  the  invariable  characteristic  of 
a  multitude.  He  was  the  sense  of  the  commonalty 

1  When  the  chronicler  praises  the  gift  of  speech,  he  uncon- 
sciously proves  the  existence  of  constitutional  freedom. 
VOL.  I.— 7 


98  HAROLD 

carried  to  its  highest  degree.  Whatever  the  faults,  it 
may  be  the  crimes,  of  a  career  singularly  prosperous 
and  splendid,  amidst  events  the  darkest  and  most  ter- 
rible,— shining  with  a  steady  light  across  the  thunder- 
clouds,— he  was  never  accused  of  cruelty  or  outrage 
to  the  mass  of  the  people.  English,  emphatically,  the 
English  deemed  him;  and  this  not  the  less  that  in  his 
youth  he  had  sided  with  Canute,  and  owed  his  fortunes 
to  that  king;  for  so  intermixed  were  Danes  and  Saxons 
in  England,  that  the  agreement  which  had  given  to 
Canute  one  half  the  kingdom  had  been  received  with 
general  applause;  and  the  earlier  severities  of  that 
great  prince  had  been  so  redeemed  in  his  later  years 
by  wisdom  and  mildness — so,  even  in  the  worst  period 
of  his  reign,  relieved  by  extraordinary  personal  affa- 
bility, and  so  lost  now  in  men's  memories  by  pride  in 
his  power  and  fame, — that  Canute  had  left  behind  him 
a  beloved  and  honoured  name,1  and  Godwin  was  the 
more  esteemed  as  the  chosen  counsellor  of  that  popu- 
lar prince.  At  his  death,  Godwin  was  known  to  have 
wished,  and  even  armed,  for  the  restoration  of  the 
Saxon  line;  and  only  yielded  to  the  determination  of 
the  Witan,  no  doubt  acted  upon  by  the  popular  opin- 
ion. Of  one  dark  crime  he  was  suspected,  and,  de- 
spite his  oath  to  the  contrary,  and  the  formal  acquittal 
of  the  national  council,  doubt  of  his  guilt  rested  then, 
as  it  rests  still,  upon  his  name;  viz.,  the  perfidious  sur- 
render of  Alfred,  Edward's  murdered  brother. 

But  time  had  passed  over  the  dismal  tragedy;  and 

1  Recent  Danish  historians  have  in  vain  endeavoured  to  de- 
tract from  the  reputation  of  Canute  as  an  English  monarch. 
The  Danes  are,  doubtless,  the  best  authorities  for  his  char- 
acter in  Denmark.  But  our  own  English  authorities  are 
sufficiently  decisive  as  to  the  personal  popularity  of  Canute 
in  this  country,  and  the  affection  entertained  for  his  laws. 


HAROLD  99 

there  was  an  instinctive  and  prophetic  feeling  through- 
out the  English  nation,  that  with  the  House  of  God- 
win was  identified  the  cause  of  the  English  people. 
Everything  in  this  man's  aspect  served  to  plead  in  his 
favour.  His  ample  brows  were  calm  with  benignity 
and  thought;  his  large  dark  blue  eyes  were  serene  and 
mild,  though  their  expression,  when  examined,  was 
close  and  inscrutable.  His  mien  was  singularly  noble, 
but  wholly  without  fcrmality  or  affected  state;  and 
though  haughtiness  and  arrogance  were  largely  at- 
tributed to  him,  they  could  be  found  only  in  his  deeds, 
not  manner — plain,  familiar,  kindly  to  all  men,  his 
heart  seemed  as  open  to  the  service  of  his  countrymen 
as  his  hospitable  door  to  their  wants. 

Behind  him  stood  the  stateliest  group  of  sons  that 
ever  filled  with  pride  a  father's  eye.  Each  strikingly 
distinguished  from  the  other,  all  remarkable  for 
beauty  of  countenance  and  strength  of  frame. 

Sweyn,  the  eldest,1  had  the  dark  hues  of  his  mother 
the  Dane:  a  wild  and  mournful  majesty  sat  upon  feat- 
ures aquiline  and  regular,  but  wasted  by  grief  or  pas- 
sion; raven  locks,  glossy  even  in  neglect,  fell  half  over 
eyes  hollow  in  their  sockets,  but  bright,  though  with 
troubled  fire.  Over  his  shoulder  he  bore  his  mighty 
axe.  His  form,  spare,  but  of  immense  power,  was 

1  Some  of  our  historians  erroneously  represent  Harold  as 
the  eldest  son.  But  Florence,  the  best  authority  we  have,  in 
Jhe  silence  of  the  Saxon  Chronicle,  as  well  as  Knyghton,  dis- 
tinctly states  Sweyn  to  be  the  eldest ;  Harold  was  the  second, 
and  Tostig  was  the  third.  Sweyn's  seniority  seems  corrobo- 
rated by  the  greater  importance  of  his  earldom.  The  Norman 
chroniclers,  in  their  spite  to  Harold,  wish  to  make  him  junior 
to  Tostig — for  the  reasons  evident  at  the  close  of  this  work. 
And  the  Norwegian  chronicler,  Snorro  Sturleson,  says  that 
Harold  was  the  youngest  of  all  the  sons;  so  little  was  really 
known,  or  cared  to  be  accurately  known,  of  that  great  house 
which  so  nearly  founded  a  new  dynasty  of  English  kings. 


ioo  HAROLD 

sheathed  in  mail,  and  he  leant  on  his  great  pointed 
Danish  shield.  At  his  feet  sate  his  young  son  Haco, 
a  boy  with  a  countenance  preternaturally  thoughtful 
for  his  years,  which  were  yet  those  of  childhood. 

Next  to  him  stood  the  most  dreaded  and  ruthless  of 
the  sons  of  Godwin — he,  fated  to  become  to  the  Saxon 
what  Julian  was  to  the  Goth.  With  his  arms  folded 
on  his  breast  stood  Tostig;  his  face  was  beautiful  as 
a  Greek's,  in  all  save  the  forehead,  which  was  low  and 
lowering.  Sleek  and  trim  were  his  bright  chestnut 
locks;  and  his  arms  were  damascened  with  silver,  for 
he  was  one  who  loved  the  pomp  and  luxury  of  war. 

Wolnoth,  the  mother's  favourite,  seemed  yet  in  the 
first  flower  of  youth,  but  he  alone  of  all  the  sons  had 
something  irresolute  and  effeminate  in  his  aspect  and 
bearing;  his  form,  though  tall,  had  not  yet  come  to 
its  full  height  and  strength;  and,  as  if  the  weight  of 
mail  were  unusual  to  him,  he  leant  with  both  hands 
upon  the  wood  of  his  long  spear.  Leofwine,  who 
stood  next  to  Wolnoth,  contrasted  him  notably;  his 
sunny  locks  wreathed  carelessly  over  a  white  un- 
clouded brow,  and  the  silken  hair  on  the  upper  lip 
quivered  over  arch  lips,  smiling,  even  in  that  serious 
hour. 

At  Godwin's  right  hand,  but  not  immediately  near 
him,  stood  the  last  of  the  group,  Gurth  and  Harold. 
Gurth  had  passed  his  arm  over  the  shoulder  of  his 
brother,  and,  not  watching  the  nuncius  while  he  spoke, 
watched  only  the  effect  his  words  produced  on  the 
face  of  Harold.  For  Gurth  loved  Harold  as  Jona- 
than loved  David.  And  Harold  was  the  only  one  of 
the  group  not  armed ;  and  had  a  veteran  skilled  in  war 
been  asked  who  of  that  group  was  born  to  lead  armed 
men,  he  would  have  pointed  to  the  man  unarmed. 


HAROLD  101 

"  So  what  says  the  King?  "  asked  Earl  Godwin. 

"This;  he  refuses  to  restore  thee  and  thy  sons,  or 
to  hear  thee,  till  thou  hast  disbanded  thine  army,  dis- 
missed thy  ships,  and  consented  to  clear  thyself  and 
thy  house  before  the  Witanagemot." 

A  fierce  laugh  broke  from  Tostig;  Sweyn's  mourn- 
ful brow  grew  darker;  Leofwine  placed  his  right  hand 
on  his  ateghar;  Wolnoth  rose  erect;  Gurth  kept  his 
eyes  on  Harold,  and  Harold's  face  was  unmoved. 

"  The  King  received  thee  in  his  council  of  war," 
said  Godwin,  thoughtfully,  "  and  doubtless  the  Nor- 
mans were  there.  Who  were  the  Englishmen  most 
of  mark?" 

"  Siward  of  Northumbria,  thy  foe." 

"  My  sons,"  said  the  Earl,  turning  to  his  children, 
and  breathing  loud  as  if  a  load  were  off  his  heart; 
"  there  will  be  no  need  of  axe  or  armour  to-day.  Har- 
old alone  was  wise,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  linen  tunic 
of  the  son  thus  cited. 

"  What  mean  you,  Sir  Father?  "  said  Tostig,  im- 
periously. "  Think  you  to ' 

"Peace,  son,  peace;"  said  Godwin,  without  asper- 
ity, but  with  conscious  command.  "  Return,  brave 
and  dear  friend,"  he  said  to  Vebba,  "  find  out  Siward 
the  Earl;  tell  him  that  I,  Godwin,  his  foe  in  the  old 
time,  place  honour  and  life  in  his  hands,  and  what  he 
counsels  that  will  we  do. — Go." 

The  Kent  man  nodded,  and  regained  his  boat. 
Then  spoke  Harold. 

"  Father,  yonder  are  the  forces  of  Edward ;  as  yet 
without  leaders,  since  the  chiefs  must  still  be  in  the 
halls  of  the  King.  Some  fiery  Norman  amongst 
them  may  provoke  an  encounter;  and  this  city  of  Lon- 
don is  not  won,  as  it  behoves  us  to  win  it,  if  one  drop 


102  HAROLD 

of  English  blood  dye  the  sword  of  one  English  man. 
Wherefore,  with  your  leave,  I  will  take  boat,  and  land. 
And  unless  I  have  lost  in  my  absence  all  right  lere  in 
the  hearts  of  our  countrymen,  at  the  first  shout  from 
our  troops  which  proclaims  that  Harold,  son  of  God- 
win, is  on  the  soil  of  our  fathers,  half  yon  array  of 
spears  and  helms  pass  at  once  to  our  side." 

"  And  if  not,  my  vain  brother?  "  said  Tostig,  gnaw- 
ing his  lip  with  envy. 

"  And  if  not,  I  will  ride  alone  into  the  midst  of 
them,  and  ask  what  Englishmen  are  there  who  will 
aim  shaft  or  spear  at  this  breast,  never  mailed  against 
England!" 

Godwin  placed  his  hand  on  Harold's  head,  and  the 
tears  came  to  those  close  cold  eyes. 

"  Thou  knowest  by  nature  what  I  have  learned  by 
art.  Go,  and  prosper.  Be  it  as  thou  wilt." 

"  He  takes  thy  post,  Sweyn — thou  art  the  elder," 
said  Tostig,  to  the  wild  form  by  his  side. 

"  There  is  guilt  on  my  soul,  and  woe  in  my  heart," 
answered  Sweyn,  moodily.  "  Shall  Esau  lose  his 
birthright,  and  Cain  retain  it  ?  "  So  saying,  he  with- 
drew, and,  reclining  against  the  stern  of  the  vessel, 
leant  his  face  upon  the  edge  of  his  shield. 

Harold  watched  him  with  deep  compassion  in  his 
eyes,  passed  to  his  side  with  a  quick  step,  pressed  his 
hand,  and  whispered,  "  Peace  to  the  past,  O  my 
brother! " 

The  boy  Haco,  who  had  noiselessly  followed  his 
father,  lifted  his  sombre,  serious  looks  to  Harold  as  he 
thus  spoke;  and  when  Harold  turned  away,  he  said  to 
Sweyn,  timidly,  "  He ,  at  least,  is  ever  good  to  thee  and 
to  me." 

"  And  thou,  when  I  am  no  more,  shalt  cling  to  him 


HAROLD  103 

as  thy  father,  Haco,"  answered  Sweyn,  tenderly 
smoothing  back  the  child's  dark  locks. 

The  boy  shivered;  and,  bending  his  head,  mur- 
mured to  himself,  "When  thou  art  no  more!  No 
more?  Has  the  Vala  doomed  him,  too?  Father  and 
son,  both?" 

Meanwhile,  Harold  had  entered  the  boat  lowered 
from  the  sides  of  the  aesca  to  receive  him;  and  Gurth, 
looking  appealingly  to  his  father,  and  seeing  no  sign 
of  dissent,  sprang  down  after  the  young  Earl,  and 
seated  himself  by  his  side. 

Godwin  followed  the  boat  with  musing  eyes. 

"  Small  need,"  said  he,  aloud,  but  to  himself,  "  to 
believe  in  soothsayers,  or  to  credit  Hilda  the  saga, 
when  she  prophesied,  ere  we  left  our  shores,  that  Har- 
old  "  He  stopped  short,  for  Tostig's  wrathful  ex- 
clamation broke  on  his  reverie. 

"  Father,  father!  My  blood  surges  in  my  ears,  and 
boils  in  my  heart,  when  I  hear  thee  name  the  prophe- 
cies of  Hilda  in  favour  of  thy  darling.  Dissension  and 
strife  in  our  house  have  they  wrought  already;  and 
if  the  feuds  between  Harold  and  me  have  sown  grey 
in  thy  locks,  thank  thyself  when,  flushed  with  vain 
soothsayings  for  thy  favoured  Harold,  thou  saidst,  in 
the  hour  of  our  first  childish  broil,  '  Strive  not  with 
Harold;  for  his  brothers  will  be  his  men."1 

"Falsify  the  prediction,"  said  Godwin,  calmly; 
"  wise  men  may  always  make  their  own  future,  and 
seize  their  own  fates.  Prudence,  patience,  labour, 
valour;  these  are  the  stars  that  rule  the  career  of  mor- 
tals." 

Tostig  made  no  answer;  for  the  splash  of  oars  was 
near,  and  two  ships,  containing  the  principal  chiefs 
that  had  joined  Godwin's  cause,  came  alongside  the 


104  HAROLD 

Runic  aesca  to  hear  the  result  of  the  message  sent  to 
the  King.  Tostig  sprang  to  the  vessel's  side,  and  ex- 
claimed, "  The  King,  girt  by  his  false  counsellors,  will 
hear  us  not,  and  arms  must  decide  between  us." 

"  Hold,  hold!  malignant,  unhappy  boy!  "  cried  God- 
win, between  his  grinded  teeth,  as  a  shout  of  indig- 
nant, yet  joyous  ferocity  broke  from  the  crowded  ships 
thus  hailed.  "  The  curse  of  all  time  be  on  him  who 
draws  the  first  native  blood  in  sight  of  the  altars  and 
hearths  of  London!  Hear  me,  thou  with  the  vul- 
ture's blood-lust,  and  the  peacock's  vain  joy  in  the 
gaudy  plume!  Hear  me,  Tostig,  and  tremble.  If 
but  by  one  word  thou  widen  the  breach  between  me 
and  the  King,  outlaw  thou  enterest  England,  outlaw 
shalt  thou  depart — for  earldom  and  broad  lands, 
choose  the  bread  of  the  stranger,  and  the  weregeld  of 
the  wolf!" 

The  young  Saxon,  haughty  as  he  was,  quailed  at 
his  father's  thrilling  voice,  bowed  his  head,  and  re- 
treated sullenly.  Godwin  sprang  on  the  deck  of  the 
nearest  vessel,  and  all  the  passions  that  Tostig  had 
aroused,  he  exerted  his  eloquence  to  appease. 

In  the  midst  of  his  arguments,  there  rose  from  the 
ranks  on  the  strand,  the  shout  of  "  Harold !  Harold 
the  Earl!  Harold  and  Holy  Crosse!"  And  God- 
win, turning  his  eye  to  the  King's  ranks,  saw  them 
agitated,  swayed,  and  moving;  till  suddenly,  from  the 
very  heart  of  the  hostile  array,  came,  as  by  irresistible 
impulse,  the  cry,  "  Harold,  our  Harold !  All  hail,  the 
good  Earl!" 

While  this  chanced  without, — within  the  palace,  Ed- 
ward had  quitted  the  presence-chamber,  and  was  clos- 
eted with  Stigand,  the  bishop.  This  prelate  had  the 
more  influence  with  Edward,  inasmuch  as  though 


HAROLD  105 

Saxon,  he  was  held  to  be  no  enemy  to  the  Normans, 
and  had,  indeed,  on  a  former  occasion,  been  deposed 
from  his  bishopric  on  the  charge  of  too  great  an 
attachment  to  the  Norman  queen-mother  Emma.1 
Never  in  his  whole  life  had  Edward  been  so  stubborn 
as  on  this  occasion.  For  here,  more  than  his  realm 
was  concerned,  he  was  threatened  in  the  peace  of  his 
household,  and  the  comfort  of  his  tepid  friendships. 
With  the  recall  of  his  powerful  father-in-law,  he  fore- 
saw the  necessary  reintrusion  of  his  wife  upon  the 
charm  of  his  chaste  solitude.  His  favourite  Normans 
would  be  banished,  he  should  be  surrounded  with 
faces  he  abhorred.  All  the  representations  of  Stigand 
fell  upon  a  stern  and  unyielding  spirit,  when  Siward 
entered  the  King's  closet. 

"  Sir,  my  King,"  said  the  great  son  of  Beorn,  "  I 
yielded  to  your  kingly  will  in  the  council,  that,  before 
we  listened  to  Godwin,  he  should  disband  his  men, 
and  submit  to  the  judgment  of  the  Witan.  The  Earl 
hath  sent  me  to  say,  that  he  will  put  honour  and  life 
in  my  keeping,  and  abide  by  my  counsel.  And  I  have 
answered  as  became  the  man  who  will  never  snare  a 
foe,  or  betray  a  trust." 

"How  hast  thou  answered?"  asked  the  King. 

"That  he  abide  by  the  laws  of  England,  as  Dane 
and  Saxon  agreed  to  abide  in  the  days  of  Canute ;  that 
he  and  his  sons  shall  make  no  claim  for  land  or  lord- 
ship, but  submit  all  to  the  Witan." 

"  Good,"  said  the  King;  "  and  the  Witan  will  con- 

1  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle,  A.D.  1043.  "  Stigand  was  deposed 
from  his  bishopric,  and  all  that  he  possessed  was  seized  into 
the  King's  hands,  because  he  was  received  to  his  mother's  coun- 
sel, and  she  went  just  as  he  advised  her,  as  people  thought." 
The  saintly  Confessor  dealt  with  his  bishops  as  summarily  as 
Henry  VIII.  could  have  done,  after  his  quarrel  with  the  Pope. 


106  HAROLD 

demn  him  now,  as  it  would  have  condemned  when  he 
shunned  to  meet  it." 

"  And  the  Witan  now,"  returned  the  Earl  emphat- 
ically, "  will  be  free,  and  fair,  and  just." 

"  And  meanwhile,  the  troops " 

"  Will  wait  on  either  side ;  and  if  reason  fail,  then 
the  sword,"  said  Siward. 

"  This  I  will  not  hear,"  exclaimed  Edward ;  when 
the  tramp  of  many  feet  thundered  along  the  passage; 
the  door  was  flung  open,  and  several  captains  (Nor- 
man as  well  as  Saxon)  of  the  King's  troops  rushed  in, 
wild,  rude,  and  tumultuous. 

"  The  troops  desert !  half  the  ranks  have  thrown 
down  their  arms  at  the  very  name  of  Harold!"  ex- 
claimed the  Earl  of  Hereford.  *  Curses  on  the 
knaves! " 

"  And  the  lithsmen  of  London,"  cried  a  Saxon 
thegn,  "  are  all  on  his  side,  and  marching  already 
through  the  gates." 

"Pause  yet,"  whispered  Stigand;  "and  who  shall 
say,  this  hour  to-morrow,  if  Edward  or  Godwin  reign 
on  the  throne  of  Alfred?  " 

His  stern  heart  moved  by  the  distress  of  his  King, 
and  not  the  less  for  the  unwonted  firmness  which  Ed- 
ward displayed,  Siward  here  approached,  knelt,  and 
took  the  King's  hand. 

"  Siward  can  give  no  niddering  counsel  to  his  King; 
to  save  the  blood  of  his  subjects  is  never  a  king's  dis- 
grace. Yield  thou  to  mercy,  Godwin  to  the  law! " 

"  Oh  for  the  cowl  and  cell !  "  exclaimed  the  Prince, 
wringing  his  hands.  "  Oh  Norman  home,  why  did  I 
leave  thee?  " 

He  took  the  cross  from  his  breast,  contemplated  it 
fixedly,  prayed  silently  but  with  fervour,  and  his  face 
again  became  tranquil. 


HAROLD  107 

"  Go,"  he  said,  flinging  himself  on  his  seat  in  the 
exhaustion  that  follows  passion,  "  go,  Siward,  go, 
Stigand,  deal  with  things  mundane  as  ye  will." 

The  bishop,  satisfied  with  this  reluctant  acquies- 
cence, seized  Siward  by  the  arm  and  withdrew  him 
from  the  closet.  The  captains  remained  a  few  mo- 
ments behind,  the  Saxons  silently  gazing  on  the  King, 
the  Normans  whispering  each  other,  in  great  doubt 
and  trouble,  and  darting  looks  of  the  bitterest  scorn 
at  their  feeble  benefactor.  Then,  as  with  one  accord, 
these  last  rushed  along  the  corridor,  gained  the  hall 
where  their  countrymen  yet  assembled,  and  exclaimed, 
"  A  touts  bride!  Franc  etricr! — All  is  lost  but  life! — 
God  for  the  first  man, — knife  and  cord  for  the  last !  " 

Then,  as  the  cry  of  fire,  or  as  the  first  crash  of  an 
earthquake,  dissolves  all  union,  and  reduces  all  emo- 
tion into  one  thought  of  self-saving,  the  whole  con- 
clave, crowding  pell-mell  on  each  other,  bustled,  jos- 
tled, clamoured  to  the  door — happy  he  who  could  find 
horse,  palfrey, — even  monk's  mule!  This  way,  that 
way,  fled  those  lordly  Normans,  those  martial  abbots, 
those  mitred  bishops  —  some  singly,  some  in  pairs; 
some  by  tens,  and  some  by  scores;  but  all  prudently 
shunning  association  with  those  chiefs  whom  they  had 
most  courted  the  day  before,  and  who,  they  now  knew, 
would  be  the  main  mark  for  revenge;  save  only  two, 
who  yet,  from  that  awe  of  the  spiritual  power  which 
characterised  the  Norman,  who  was  already  half  monk, 
half  solder  (Crusader  and  Templar  before  Crusades 
were  yet  preached,  or  the  Templars  yet  dreamed  of), 
— even  in  that  hour  of  selfish  panic  rallied  round  them 
the  prowest  chivalry  of  their  countrymen,  viz.,  the 
Bishop  of  London  and  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 
Both  these  dignitaries,  armed  cap-a-pie,  and  spear  in 


io8  HAROLD 

hand,  headed  the  flight;  and  good  service  that  day, 
both  as  guide  and  champion,  did  Mallet  de  Graville. 
He  led  them  in  a  circuit  behind  both  armies,  but  being 
intercepted  by  a  new  body,  coming  from  the  pastures 
of  Hertfordshire  to  the  help  of  Godwin,  he  was  com- 
pelled to  take  the  bold  and  desperate  resort  of  enter- 
ing the  city  gates.  These  were  wide  open;  whether  to 
admit  the  Saxon  Earls,  or  vomit  forth  their  allies,  the 
Londoners.  Through  these,  up  the  narrow  streets, 
riding  three  abreast,  dashed  the  slaughtering  fugi- 
tives; worthy  in  flight  of  their  national  renown,  they 
trampled  down  every  obstacle.  Bodies  of  men  drew 
up  against  them  at  every  angle,  with  the  Saxon  cry  of 
"Out— Out!"  "Down  with  the  outland  men!" 
Through  each,  spear  pierced,  and  sword  clove,  the 
way.  Red  with  gore  was  the  spear  of  the  prelate  of 
London;  broken  to  the  hilt  was  the  sword  militant  in 
the  terrible  hand  of  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 
So  on  they  rode,  so  on  they  slaughtered — gained  the 
Eastern  Gate,  and  passed  with  but  two  of  their  number 
lost. 

The  fields  once  gained,  for  better  precaution  they 
separated.  Some  few,  not  quite  ignorant  of  the  Saxon 
tongue,  doffed  their  mail,  and  crept  through  forest 
and  fell  towards  the  sea-shore;  others  retained  steed 
and  arms,  but  shunned  equally  the  high  roads.  The 
two  prelates  were  among  the  last;  they  gained,  in 
safety,  Ness,  in  Essex,  threw  themselves  into  an  open, 
crazy,  fishing-boat,  committed  themselves  to  the 
waves,  and,  half  drowned  and  half  famished,  drifted 
over  the  Channel  to  the  French  shores.  Of  the  rest 
of  the  courtly  foreigners,  some  took  refuge  in  the 
forts  yet  held  by  their  countrymen;  some  lay  concealed 
in  creeks  and  caves  till  they  could  find  or  steal  boats 


HAROLD  109 

for  their  passage.  And  thus,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1052,  occurred  the  notable  dispersion  and  ignomin- 
ious flight  of  the  counts  and  vavasours  of  great  Will- 
iam the  Duke! 


CHAPTER    III 

The  Witana-gerribt  was  assembled  in  the  great  hall 
of  Westminster  in  all  its  imperial  pomp. 

It  was  on  his  throne  that  the  King  sate  now — and 
it  was  the  sword  that  was  in  his  right  hand.  Some 
seated  below,  and  some  standing  beside,  the  throne, 
were  the  officers  of  the  Basileus  x  of  Britain.  There 
were  to  be  seen  camararius  and  pincerna,  chamberlain 
and  cupbearer;  disc  thegn  and  hors  thegn; 2  the  thegn 
of  the  dishes,  and  the  thegn  of  the  stud;  with  many 
more,  whose  state  offices  may  not  impossibly  have 
been  borrowed  from  the  ceremonial  pomp  of  the  By- 
zantine court;  for  Edgar,  King  of  England,  had  in 
the  old  time  styled  himself  the  Heir  of  Constantine. 
Next  to  these  sat  the  clerks  of  the  chapel,  with  the 
King's  confessor  at  their  head.  Officers  were  they 
of  higher  note  than  their  name  bespeaks,  and  wield- 
ers,  in  the  trust  of  the  Great  Seal,  of  a  power  un- 
known of  old,  and  now  obnoxious  to  the  Saxon.  For 
tedious  is  the  suit  which  lingers  for  the  king's  writ 
and  the  king's  seal;  and  from  those  clerks  shall  arise 
hereafter  a  thing  of  torture  and  of  might,  which  shall 
grind  out  the  hearts  of  men,  and  be  called  CHANCERY  ! 3 

1  The  title  of  Basileus  was  retained  by  our  kings  so  late  as 
the  time  of  John,  who  styled  himself  "  Totius  Insulae  Britan- 
nicae  Basileus." — AGARD:  On  the  Antiquity  of  Shires  in  Eng- 
land, ap.  Hearne,  Cur.  Disc.  2  Sharon  Turner. 

3  See  the  Introduction  to  PALGRAVE'S  History  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxons,  from  which  this  description  of  the  Witan  is  borrowed 


1 10  HAROLD 

Below  the  scribes,  a  space  was  left  on  the  floor,  and 
farther  down  sat  the  chiefs  of  the  Witan.  Of  these, 
first  in  order,  both  from  their  spiritual  rank  and  their 
vast  temporal  possessions,  sat  the  lords  of  the  Church; 
the  chairs  of  the  prelates  of  London  and  Canterbury 
were  void.  But  still  goodly  was  the  array  of  Saxon 
mitres,  with  the  harsh,  hungry,  but  intelligent  face  of 
Stigand, — Stigand  the  stout  and  the  covetous ;  and  the 
benign  but  firm  features  of  Aired,  true  priest  and  true 
patriot,  distinguished  amidst  all.  Around  each  prelate, 
as  stars  round  a  sun,  were  his  own  special  priestly  re- 
tainers, selected  from  his  diocese.  Farther  still  down 
the  hall  are  the  great  civil  lords  and  vice-king  vassals 
of  the  "  Lord-Paramount."  Vacant  the  chair  of  the 
King  of  the  Scots,  for  Siward  hath  not  yet  had  his 
wish ;  Macbeth  is  in  his  fastnesses,  or  listening  to  the 
weird  sisters  in  the  wold;  and  Malcolm  is  a  fugitive 
in  the  halls  of  the  Northumbrian  earl.  Vacant  the 
chair  of  the  hero  Gryffyth,  son  of  Llewelyn,  the  dread 
of  the  marches,  Prince  of  Gwyned,  whose  arms  had 
subjugated  all  Cymry.  But  there  are  the  lesser  sub- 
kings  of  Wales,  true  to  the  immemorial  schisms 
amongst  themselves,  which  destroyed  the  realm  of 
Ambrosius,  and  rendered  vain  the  arm  of  Arthur. 
With  their  torques  of  gold,  and  wild  eyes,  and  hair 
cut  round  ears  and  brow,1  they  stare  on  the  scene. 
1  On  the  same  bench  with  these  sub-kings,  distin- 
guished from  them  by  height  of  stature,  and  calm  col- 
lectedness  of  mien,  no  less  than  by  their  caps  of  main- 

so  largely,  that  I  am  left  without  other  apology  for  the 
plagiarism,  than  the  frank  confession,  that  if  I  could  have 
found  in  others,  or  conceived  from  my  own  resources,  a  de- 
scription half  as  graphic  and  half  as  accurate,  I  would  only 
have  plagiarised  to  half  the  extent  I  have  done. 
1  Girald.  Gambrensis. 


HAROLD  in 

tenance  and  furred  robes,  are  those  props  of  strong 
thrones  and  terrors  of  weak — the  earls  to  whom  shires 
and  counties  fall,  as  hyde  and  carricate  to  the  lesser 
thegns.  But  three  of  these  were  then  present,  and  all 
three  the  foes  of  Godwin, — Siward,  Earl  of  Nor- 
thumbria;  Leofric  of  Mercia  (that  Leofric  whose  wife 
Godiva  yet  lives  in  ballad  and  song);  and  Rolf,  Earl 
of  Hereford  and  Worcestershire,  who,  strong  in  his 
claim  of  "  king's  blood,"  left  not  the  court  with  his 
Norman  friends.  And  on  the  same  benches,  though 
a  little  apart,  are  the  lesser  earls,  and  that  higher  order 
of  thegns,  called  king's  thegns. 

Not  far  from  these  sat  the  chosen  citizens  from  the 
free  burgh  of  London,  already  of  great  weight  in  the 
senate,1 — sufficing  often  to  turn  its  counsels;  all  friends 
were  they  of  the  English  Earl  and  his  house.  In  the 
same  division  of  the  hall  were  found  the  bulk  and  true 
popular  part  of  the  meeting — popular  indeed — as  rep- 
resenting not  the  people,  but  the  things  the  people 
most  prized — valour  and  wealth;  the  thegn  landown- 
ers, called  in  the  old  deeds  the  "  Ministers:  "  they  sate 
with  swords  by  their  side,  all  of  varying  birth,  fortune, 
and  connection,  whether  with  king,  earl,  or  ceorl.  For 
in  the  different  districts  of  the  old  Heptarchy,  the 
qualification  varied;  high  in  East  Anglia,  low  in  Wes- 
sex;  so  that  what  was  wealth  in  the  one  shire  was  pov- 
erty in  the  other.  There  sate,  half  a  yeoman,  the 
Saxon  thegn  of  Berkshire  or  Dorset,  proud  of  his  five 
hydes  of  land;  there,  half  an  ealderman,  the  Danish 
thegn  of  Norfolk  or  Ely,  discontented  with  his  forty; 

1  Palgrave  omits,  I  presume  accidentally,  these  members  of 
the  Witan,  but  it  is  clear  from  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle 
that  the  London  "  lithsmen  "  were  represented  in  the  great 
National  Witans,  and  helped  to  decide  the  election  even  of 
kings. 


U2  HAROLD 

some  were  there  in  right  of  smaller  offices  under  the 
crown;  some  traders,  and  sons  of  traders,  for  having 
crossed  the  high  seas  three  times  at  their  own  risk; 
some  could  boast  the  blood  of  Offa  and  Egbert;  and 
some  traced  but  three  generations  back  to  neatherd 
and  ploughman;  and  some  were  Saxons  and  some 
were  Danes:  and  some  from  the  western  shires  were 
by  origin  Britons,  though  little  cognisant  of  their  race. 
Farther  down  still,  at  the  extreme  end  of  the  hall, 
crowding  by  the  open  doors,  filling  up  the  space  with- 
out, were  the  ceorls  themselves,  a  vast  and  not  power- 
less body;  in  these  high  courts  (distinct  from  the  shire 
gemots,  or  local  senates) — never  called  upon  to  vote 
or  to  speak  or  to  act,  or  even  to  sign  names  to  the 
doom,  but  only  to  shout  "  Yea,  yea,"  when  the  pro- 
ceres  pronounced  their  sentence.  Yet  not  powerless 
were  they,  but  rather  to  the  Witan  what  public  opin- 
ion is  to  the  Witan's  successor,  our  modern  parliament: 
they  were  opinion!  And  according  to  their  numbers 
and  their  sentiments,  easily  known  and  boldly  mur- 
mured, often  and  often  must  that  august  court  of  ba- 
sileus  and  prelate,  vassal-king  and  mighty  earl,  have 
shaped  the  council  and  adjudged  the  doom. 

And  the  forms  of  the  meeting  had  been  duly  said 
and  done;  and  the  King  had  spoken  words  no  doubt 
wary  and  peaceful,  gracious  and  exhortatory;  but 
those  words — for  his  voice  that  day  was  weak — trav- 
elled not  beyond  the  small  circle  of  his  clerks  and  his 
officers;  and  a  murmur  buzzed  through  the  hall,  when 
Earl  Godwin  stood  on  the  floor  with  his  six  sons  at 
his  back;  and  you  might  have  heard  the  hum  of  the 
gnat  that  vexed  the  smooth  cheek  of  Earl  Rolf,  or  the 
click  of  the  spider  from  the  web  on  the  vaulted  roof, 
the  moment  before  Earl  Godwin  spoke. 


HAROLD  113 

"  If,"  said  he,  with  the  modest  look  and  downcast 
eye  of  practised  eloquence,  "  if  I  rejoice  once  more 
to  breathe  the  air  of  England,  in  whose  service,  often 
perhaps  with  faulty  deeds,  but  at  all  times  with  honest 
thoughts,  I  have,  both  in  war  and  council,  devoted 
so  much  of  my  life  that  little  now  remains — but  (should 
you,  my  king,  and  you,  prelates,  proceres,  and  min- 
isters so  vouchsafe)  to  look  round  and  select  that  spot 
of  my  native  soil  which  shall  receive  my  bones; — if  I 
rejoice  to  stand  once  more  in  that  assembly  which  has 
often  listened  to  my  voice  when  our  common  country 
was  in  peril,  who  here  will  blame  that  joy?  Who 
among  my  foes,  if  foes  now  I  have,  will  not  respect 
the  old  man's  gladness?  Who  amongst  you,  earls  and 
thegns,  would  not  grieve,  if  his  duty  bade  him  say  to 
the  grey-haired  exile,  '  In  this  English  air  you  shall 
not  breathe  your  last  sigh — on  this  English  soil  you 
shall  not  find  a  grave ! '  Who  amongst  you  would 
not  grieve  to  say  it?  "  (Suddenly  he  drew  up  his  head 
and  faced  his  audience.)  "  Who  amongst  you  hath 
the  courage  and  the  heart  to  say  it?  Yes,  I  rejoice 
that  I  am  at  last  in  an  assembly  fit  to  judge  my  cause, 
and  pronounce  my  innocence.  For  what  offence  was 
I  outlawed?  For  what  offence  were  I,  and  the  six 
sons  I  have  given  to  my  land,  to  bear  the  wolf's  pen- 
alty, and  be  chased  and  slain  as  the  wild  beasts?  Hear 
me,  and  answer! 

"  Eustace,  Count  of  Boulogne,  returning  to  his  do- 
mains from  a  visit  to  our  lord  the  King,  entered  the 
town  of  Dover  in  mail  and  on  his  war  steed;  his  train 
did  the  same.  Unknowing  our  laws  and  customs  (for 
I  desire  to  press  light  upon  all  old  grievances,  and  will 
impute  ill  designs  to  none)  these  foreigners  invade  by 
force  the  private  dwellings  of  citizens,  and  there  select 
VOL.  I.— 8 


114  HAROLD 

their  quarters.  Ye  all  know  that  this  was  the  strong- 
est violation  of  Saxon  right;  ye  know  that  the  meanest 
ceorl  hath  the  proverb  on  his  lip,  '  Every  man's  house 
is  his  castle.'  One  of  the  townsmen  acting  on  this 
belief, — which  I  have  yet  to  learn  was  a  false  one, — 
expelled  from  his  threshold  a  retainer  of  the  French 
Earl's.  The  stranger  drew  his  sword  and  wounded 
him;  blows  followed — the  stranger  fell  by  the  arm  he 
had  provoked.  The  news  arrives  to  Earl  Eustace;  he 
and  his  kinsmen  spur  to  the  spot;  they  murder  the 
Englishman  on  his  hearth-stone. — " 

Here  a  groan,  half-stifled  and  wrathful,  broke  from 
the  ceorls  at  the  end  of  the  hall.  Godwin  held  up  his 
hand  in  rebuke  of  the  interruption,  and  resumed. 

"  This  deed  done,  the  outlanders  rode  through  the 
streets  with  their  drawn  swords;  they  butchered  those 
who  came  in  their  way;  they  trampled  even  children 
under  their  horses'  feet.  The  burghers  armed.  I 
thank  the  Divine  Father,  who  gave  me  for  my  coun- 
trymen those  gallant  burghers!  They  fought,  as  we 
English  know  how  to  fight;  they  slew  some,  nineteen 
or  score  of  these  mailed  intruders;  they  chased  them 
from  the  town.  Earl  Eustace  fled  fast.  Earl  Eustace, 
we  know,  is  a  wise  man:  small  rest  took  he,  little  bread 
broke  he,  till  he  pulled  rein  at  the  gate  of  Gloucester, 
where  my  lord  the  King  then  held  court.  He  made 
his  complaint.  My  lord  the  King,  naturally  hearing 
but  one  side,  thought  the  burghers  in  the  wrong;  and, 
scandalised  that  such  high  persons  of  his  own  kith 
should  be  so  aggrieved,  he  sent  for  me,  in  whose 
government  the  burgh  of  Dover  is,  and  bade  me  chas- 
tise, by  military  execution,  those  who  had  attacked  the 
foreign  Count.  I  appeal  to  the  great  Earls  whom  I 
see  before  me — to  you,  illustrious  Leofric;  to  you, 


HAROLD  US 

renowned  Siward — what  value  would  ye  set  on  your 
earldoms,  if  ye  had  not  the  heart  and  the  power  to 
see  right  done  to  the  dwellers  therein? 

"  What  was  the  course  I  proposed?  Instead  of  mar- 
tial execution,  which  would  involve  the  whole  burgh 
in  one  sentence,  I  submitted  that  the  reeve  and  gerefas 
of  the  burgh  should  be  cited  to  appear  before  the  King, 
and  account  for  the  broil.  My  lord,  though  ever  most 
clement  and  loving  to  his  good  people,  either  unhap- 
pily moved  against  me,  or  overswayed  by  the  for- 
eigners, was  counselled  to  reject  this  mode  of  doing 
justice,  which  our  laws,  as  settled  under  Edgar  and 
Canute,  enjoin.  And  because  I  would  not, — and  I 
say  in  the  presence  of  all,  because  I,  Godwin,  son  of 
Wolnoth,  durst  not,  if  I  would,  have  entered  the  free 
burgh  of  Dover  with  mail  on  my  back  and  the  dooms- 
man  at  my  right  hand,  these  outlanders  induced  my 
lord  the  King  to  summon  me  to  attend  in  person  (as 
for  a  sin  of  my  own)  the  council  of  the  Witan,  con- 
vened at  Gloucester,  then  filled  with  the  foreigners, 
not,  as  I  humbly  opined,  to  do  justice  to  me  and  my 
folk  of  Dover,  but  to  secure  to  this  Count  of  Bou- 
logne a  triumph  over  English  liberties,  and  sanction 
his  scorn  for  the  value  of  English  lives. 

"  I  hesitated,  and  was  menaced  with  outlawry;  I 
armed  in  self-defence,  and  in  defence  of  the  laws  of 
England;  I  armed,  that  men  might  not  be  murdered 
on  their  hearth-stones,  nor  children  trampled  under 
the  hoofs  of  a  stranger's  war-steed.  My  lord  the  King 
gathered  his  troops  round  '  the  cross  and  the  mart- 
lets.' Yon  noble  earls,  Siward  and  Leofric,  came  to 
that  standard,  as  (knowing  not  then  my  cause)  was 
their  duty  to  the  Basileus  of  Britain.  But  when  they 
knew  my  cause,  and  saw  with  me  the  dwellers  of  the 


ii6  HAROLD 

land,  against  me  the  outland  aliens,  they  righteously 
interposed.  An  armistice  was  concluded;  I  agreed  to 
refer  all  matters  to  a  Witan  held  where  it  is  held  this 
day.  My  troops  were  disbanded;  but  the  foreigners 
induced  my  lord  not  only  to  retain  his  own,  but  to 
issue  his  Herr-bann  for  the  gathering  of  hosts  far  and 
near,  even  allies  beyond  the  seas.  When  I  looked  to 
London  for  the  peaceful  Witan,  what  saw  I?  The 
largest  armament  that  had  been  collected  in  this  reign 
— that  armament  headed  by  Norman  knights.  Was 
this  the  meeting  where  justice  could  be  done  mine 
and  me?  Nevertheless,  what  was  my  offer?  That 
I  and  my  six  sons  would  attend,  provided  the  usual 
sureties,  agreeable  to  our  laws,  from  which  only 
thieves x  are  excluded,  were  given  that  we  should 
come  and  go  life-free  and  safe.  Twice  this  offer  was 
made,  twice  refused;  and  so  I  and  my  sons  were  ban- 
ished. We  went; — we  have  returned!" 

"  And  in  arms,"  murmured  Earl  Rolf,  son-in-law  to 
that  Count  Eustace  of  Boulogne,  whose  violence  had 
been  temperately  and  truly  narrated.2 

"And  in  arms,"  repeated  Godwin:  "true;  in  arms 
against  the  foreigners  who  had  thus  poisoned  the  ear 
of  our  gracious  King;  in  arms,  Earl  Rolf;  and  at  the 
first  clash  of  those  arms,  Franks  and  foreigners  have 
fled.  We  have  no  need  of  arms  now.  We  are 
amongst  our  countrymen,  and  no  Frenchman  inter- 
poses between  us  and  the  ever  gentle,  ever  generous 
nature  of  our  born  King. 

"  Peers  and  proceres,  chiefs  of  this  Witan,  perhaps 
the  largest  ever  yet  assembled  in  man's  memory,  it  is 

1  By  Athelstan's  law,  every  man  was  to  have  peace  going  to 
and  from  the  Witan,  unless  he  was  a  thief. — WILKINS,  p.  137. 

2  Goda,  Edward's  sister,  married  first  Rolf's  father,  Count 
of  Mantes;    secondly,  the  Count  of  Boulogne. 


HAROLD  117 

for  you  to  decide  whether  I  and  mine,  or  the  foreign 
fugitives,  caused  the  dissensions  in  these  realms; 
whether  our  banishment  was  just  or  not;  whether  in 
our  return  we  have  abused  the  power  we  possessed. 
Ministers,  on  those  swords  by  your  sides  there  is  not 
one  drop  of  blood!  At  all  events,  in  submitting  to 
you  our  fate,  we  submit  to  our  own  laws  and  our  own 
race.  I  am  here  to  clear  myself,  on  my  oath,  of  deed 
and  thought  of  treason.  There  are  amongst  my  peers 
as  king's  thegns,  those  who  will  attest  the  same  on  my 
behalf,  and  prove  the  facts  I  have  stated,  if  they  are 
not  sufficiently  notorious.  As  for  my  sons,  no  crime 
can  be  alleged  against  them,  unless  it  be  a  crime  to 
have  in  their  veins  that  blood  which  flows  in  mine — 
blood  which  they  have  learned  from  me  to  shed  in 
defence  of  that  beloved  land  to  which  they  now  ask 
to  be  recalled." 

The  Earl  ceased  and  receded  behind  his  children, 
having  artfully,  by  his  very  abstinence  from  the  more 
heated  eloquence  imputed  to  him  often  as  a  fault  and 
a  wile,  produced  a  powerful  effect  upon  an  audience 
already  prepared  for  his  acquittal. 

But  now  as,  from  the  sons,  Sweyn  the  eldest  stepped 
forth,  with  a  wandering  eye  and  uncertain  foot,  there 
was  a  movement  like  a  shudder  amongst  the  large 
majority  of  the  audience,  and  a  murmur  of  hate  or  of 
horror. 

The  young  Earl  marked  the  sensation  his  presence 
produced,  and  stopped  short.  His  breath  came  thick; 
he  raised  his  right  hand,  but  spoke  not.  His  voice 
died  on  his  lips;  his  eyes  roved  wildly  round  with  a 
haggard  stare  more  imploring  than  defying.  Then 
rose,  in  his  episcopal  stole,  Aired  the  bishop,  and  his 
clear  sweet  voice  trembled  as  he  spoke. 


n8  HAROLD 

"  Comes  Sweyn,  son  of  Godwin,  here  to  prove  his 
innocence  of  treason  against  the  King? — if  so,  let  him 
hold  his  peace;  for  if  the  Witan  acquit  Godwin,  son 
of  Wolnoth,  of  that  charge,  the  acquittal  includes  his 
House.  But  in  the  name  of  the  holy  Church  here 
represented  by  its  fathers,  will  Sweyn  say,  and  fasten 
his  word  by  oath,  that  he  is  guiltless  of  treason  to  the 
King  of  Kings — guiltless  of  sacrilege  that  my  lips 
shrink  to  name?  Alas,  that  the  duty  falls  on  me, — for 
I  loved  thee  once,  and  love  thy  kindred  now.  But  I 
am  God's  servant  before  all  things " — the  prelate 
paused,  and  gathering  up  new  energy,  added  in  un- 
faltering accents,  "  I  charge  thee  here,  Sweyn  the  out- 
law, that,  moved  by  the  fiend,  thou  didst  bear  off  from 
God's  house  and  violate  a  daughter  of  the  Church — 
Algive,  Abbess  of  Leominster!" 

"  And  I,"  cried  Siward,  rising  to  the  full  height  of 
his  stature,  "  I,  in  the  presence  of  these  proceres, 
whose  proudest  title  is  milites  or  warriors — I  charge 
Sweyn,  son  of  Godwin,  that,  not  in  open  field  and 
hand  to  hand,  but  by  felony  and  guile,  he  wrought  the 
foul  and  abhorrent  murder  of  his  cousin,  Beorn  the 
Earl!" 

At  these  two  charges  from  men  so  eminent,  the  ef- 
fect upon  the  audience  was  startling.  While  those 
not  influenced  by  Godwin  raised  their  eyes,  sparkling 
with  wrath  and  scorn,  upon  the  wasted,  yet  still  noble 
face  of  the  eldest  bora,  even  those  most  zealous  on 
behalf  of  that  popular  House  evinced  no  sympathy  for 
its  heir.  Some  looked  down  abashed  and  mournful — 
some  regarded  the  accused  with  a  cold,  unpitying 
gaze.  Only  perhaps  among  the  ceorls,  at  the  end  of 
the  hall,  might  be  seen  some  compassion  on  anxious 
faces ;  for  before  those  deeds  of  crime  had  been  bruited 


HAROLD  119 

abroad,  none  among  the  sons  of  Godwin  more  blithe 
of  mien  and  bold  of  hand,  more  honoured  and  be- 
loved, than  Sweyn  the  outlaw.  But  the  hush  that 
succeeded  the  charges  was  appalling  in  its  depth. 
Godwin  himself  shaded  his  face  with  his  mantle,  and 
only  those  close  by  could  see  that  his  breast  heaved 
and  his  limbs  trembled.  The  brothers  had  shrunk  from 
the  side  of  the  accused,  outlawed  even  amongst  his 
kin — all  save  Harold,  who,  strong  in  his  blameless 
name  and  beloved  repute,  advanced  three  strides, 
amidst  the  silence,  and,  standing  by  his  brother's  side, 
lifted  his  commanding  brow  above  the  seated  judges, 
but  he  did  not  speak. 

Then  said  Sweyn  the  Earl,  strengthened  by  such 
solitary  companionship  in  that  hostile  assemblage, — 
"  I  might  answer  that  for  these  charges  in  the  past, 
for  deeds  alleged  as  done  eight  long  years  ago,  I  have 
the  King's  grace,  and  the  inlaw's  right;  and  that  in 
the  Witans  over  which  I  as  earl  presided,  no  man  was 
twice  judged  for  the  same  offence.  That  I  hold  to 
be  the  law,  in  the  great  councils  as  the  small." 

"  It  is!  it  is!  "  exclaimed  Godwin:  his  paternal  feel- 
ings conquering  his  prudence  and  his  decorous  dig- 
nity. "Hold  to  it,  my  son!" 

"  I  hold  to  it  not,"  resumed  the  young  earl,  casting 
a  haughty  glance  over  the  somewhat  blank  and  dis- 
appointed faces  of  his  foes,  "  for  my  law  is  here  " — and 
he  smote  his  heart — "  and  that  condemns  me  not  once 
alone,  but  evermore!  Aired,  O  holy  father,  at  whose 
knees  I  once  confessed  my  every  sin,— I  blame  thee 
not  that  thou  first,  in  the  Witan,  liftest  thy  voice 
against  me,  though  thou  knowest  that  I  loved  Algive 
from  youth  upward;  she,  with  her  heart  yet  mine,  was 
given  in  the  last  year  of  Hardicanute,  when  might  was 


120  HAROLD 

right,  to  the  Church.  I  met  her  again,  flushed  with 
my  victories  over  the  Walloon  kings,  with  power  in 
my  hand  and  passion  in  my  veins.  Deadly  was  my 
sin! — But  what  asked  I?  that  vows  compelled  should 
be  annulled;  that  the  love  of  my  youth  might  yet  be 
the  wife  of  my  manhood.  Pardon,  that  I  knew  not 
then  how  eternal  are  the  bonds  ye  of  the  Church  have 
woven  round  those  of  whom,  if  ye  fail  of  saints,  ye 
may  at  least  make  martyrs!  " 

He  paused,  and  his  lip  curled,  and  his  eye  shot  wild 
fire;  for  in  that  moment  his  mother's  blood  was  high 
within  him,  and  he  looked  and  thought,  perhaps,  as 
some  heathen  Dane,  but  the  flash  of  the  former  man 
was  momentary,  and  humbly  smiting  his  breast,  he 
murmured, — "  Avaunt,  Satan ! — yea,  deadly  was  my 
sin!  And  the  sin  was  mine  alone;  Algive,  if  stained, 
was  blameless;  she  escaped — and — and  died! 

"  The  King  was  wroth ;  and  first  to  strive  against 
my  pardon  was  Harold  my  brother,  who  now  alone  in 
my  penitence  stands  by  my  side:  he  strove  manfully 
and  openly;  I  blamed  him  not:  but  Beorn,  my  cousin, 
desired  my  earldom,  and  he  strove  against  me,  wilily 
and  in  secret, — to  my  face  kind,  behind  my  back  de- 
spiteful. I  detected  his  falsehood,  and  meant  to  de- 
tain, but  not  to  slay  him.  He  lay  bound  in  my  ship; 
he  reviled  and  he  taunted  me  in  the  hour  of  my  gloom ; 
and  when  the  blood  of  the  sea-kings  flowed  in  fire 
through  my  veins.  And  I  lifted  my  axe  in  ire;  and 
my  men  lifted  theirs,  and  so, — and  so! — Again  I  say 
• — Deadly  was  my  sin! 

"  Think  not  tha£  I  seek  now  to  make  less  my  guilt, 
as  I  sought  when  I  deemed  that  life  was  yet  long,  and 
power  was  yet  sweet.  Since  then  I  have  known 
worldly  evil,  and  worldly  good,- — the  storm  and  the 


HAROLD  121 

shine  of  life;  I  have  swept  the  seas,  a  sea-king;  I  have 
battled  with  the  Dane  in  his  native  land;  I  have  almost 
grasped  in  my  right  hand,  as  I  grasped  in  my  dreams, 
the  crown  of  my  kinsman,  Canute;  —  again,  I  have 
been  a  fugitive  and  an  exile; — again,  I  have  been  in- 
lawed,  and  Earl  of  all  the  lands  from  Isis  to  the  Wye.1 
And  whether  in  state  or  in  penury, — whether  in  war 
or  in  peace,  I  have  seen  the  pale  face  of  the  nun  be- 
trayed, and  the  gory  wounds  of  the  murdered  man. 
Wherefore  I  come  not  here  to  plead  for  a  pardon, 
which  would  console  me  not,  but  formally  to  dissever 
my  kinsmen's  cause  from  mine,  which  alone  sullies 
and  degrades  it; — I  come  here  to  say,  that,  coveting 
not  your  acquittal,  fearing  not  your  judgment,  I  pro- 
nounce mine  own  doom.  Cap  of  noble,  and  axe  of 
warrior,  I  lay  aside  for  ever;  barefooted,  and  alone, 
I  go  hence  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre;  there  to  assoil  my 
soul,  and  implore  that  grace  which  cannot  come  from 
man!  Harold,  step  forth  in  the  place  of  Sweyn  the 
first-born!  And  ye  prelates  and  peers,  milites  and 
ministers,  proceed  to  adjudge  the  living!  To  you,  and 
to  England,  he  who  now  quits  you  is  the  dead!  " 

He  gathered  his  robe  of  state  over  his  breast  as  a 
monk  his  gown,  and  looking  neither  to  right  nor  to 
left,  passed  slowly  down  the  hall,  through  the  crowd, 
which  made  way  for  him  in  awe  and  silence;  and  it 
seemed  to  the  assembly  as  if  a  cloud  had  gone  from  the 
face  of  day. 

And  Godwin  still  stood  with  his  face  covered  by  his 
robe. 

And  Harold  anxiously  watched  the  faces  of  the 
assembly,  and  saw  no  relenting. 

1  More  correctly  of  Oxford,  Somerset,  Berkshire,  Gloucester, 
and  Hereford. 


122  HAROLD 

And  Gurth  crept  to  Harold's  side. 

And  the  gay  Leofwine  looked  sad. 

And  the  young  Wolnoth  turned  pale  and  trembled. 

And  the  fierce  Tostig  played  with  his  golden  chain. 

And  one  low  sob  was  heard,  and  it  came  from  the 
breast  of  Aired  the  meek  accuser, — God's  firm  but 
gentle  priest. 


CHAPTER    IV 

This  memorable  trial  ended,  as  the  reader  will  have 
foreseen,  in  the  formal  renewal  of  Sweyn's  outlawry, 
and  the  formal  restitution  of  the  Earl  Godwin  and  his 
other  sons  to  their  lands  and  honours,  with  declara- 
tions imputing  all  the  blame  of  the  late  dissensions  to 
the  foreign  favourites,  and  sentences  of  banishment 
against  them,  except  only,  by  way  of  a  bitter  mockery, 
some  varlets  of  low  degree,  such  as  Humphrey  Cock's- 
foot,  and  Richard  son  of  Scrob.1 

The  return  to  power  of  this  able  and  vigorous  fam- 
ily was  attended  with  an  instantaneous  effect  upon  the 
long-relaxed  strings  of  the  imperial  government. 
Macbeth  heard,  and  trembled  in  his  moors;  Gryffyth 
of  Wales  lit  the  fire-beacon  on  moel  and  craig.  Earl 
Rolf  was  banished,  but  merely  as  a  nominal  conces- 
sion to  public  opinion ;  his  kinship  to  Edward  sufficed 

1  Yet  how  little  safe  it  is  for  the  great  to  despise  the  low- 
born. This  very  Richard,  son  of  Scrob,  more  euphoniously 
styled  by  the  Normans  Richard  Fitz-Scrob,  settled  in  Here- 
fordshire (he  was  probably  among  the  retainers  of  Earl  Rolf), 
and  on  William's  landing,  became  the  chief  and  most  active 
supporter  of  the  invader  in  those  districts.  The  sentence  of 
banishment  seems  to  have  been  mainly  confined  to  the  for- 
eigners about  the  Court — for  it  is  clear  that  many  Norman 
landowners  and  priests  were  still  left  scattered  throughout 
the  country. 


HAROLD  123 

to  restore  him  soon,  not. only  to  England,  but  to  the 
lordship  of  the  Marches,  and  thither  was  he  sent,  with 
adequate  force,  against  the  Welch,  who  had  half-re- 
possessed themselves  of  the  borders  they  harried. 
Saxon  prelates  and  abbots  replaced  the  Norman  fugi- 
tives; and  all  were  contented  with  the  revolution,  save 
the  King,  for  the  King  lost  his  Norman  friends,  and 
regained  his  English  wife. 

In  conformity  with  the  usages  of  the  times,  hostages 
of  the  loyalty  and  faith  of  Godwin  were  required  and 
conceded.  They  were  selected  from  his  own  family; 
and  the  choice  fell  on  Wolnoth,  his  son,  and  Haco, 
the  son  of  Sweyn.  As,  when  nearly  all  England  may 
be  said  to  have  repassed  to  the  hands  of  Godwin,  it 
would  have  been  an  idle  precaution  to  consign  these 
hostages  to  the  keeping  of  Edward,  it  was  settled, 
after  some  discussion,  that  they  should  be  placed  in 
the  Court  of  the  Norman  Duke  until  such  time  as  the 
King,  satisfied  with  the  good  faith  of  the  family,  should 
authorise  their  recall: — Fatal  hostage,  fatal  ward  and 
host! 

It  was  some  days  after  this  national  crisis,  and  order 
and  peace  were  again  established  in  city  and  land,  for- 
est and  shire,  when,  at  the  setting  of  the  sun,  Hilda 
stood  alone  by  the  altar-stone  of  Thor. 

The  orb  was  sinking  red  and  lurid,  amidst  long 
cloud-wracks  of  vermeil  and  purple,  and  not  one  hu- 
man form  was  seen  in  the  landscape,  save  that  tall  and 
majestic  figure  by  the  Runic  shrine  and  the  Druid 
crommell.  She  was  leaning  both  hands  on  her  wand, 
or  seid-staff,  as  it  was  called  in  the  language  of  Scan- 
dinavian superstition,  and  bending  slightly  forward  as 
in  the  attitude  of  listening  or  expectation.  Long  be- 
fore any  form  appeared  on  the  road  below  she  seemed 


124  HAROLD 

to  be  aware  of  coming  footsteps,  and  probably  her 
habits  of  life  had  sharpened  her  senses;  for  she  smiled, 
muttered  to  herself,  "  Ere  it  sets!  "  and  changing  her 
posture,  leant  her  arm  on  the  altar,  and  rested  her  face 
upon  her  hand. 

At  length,  two  figures  came  up  the  road;  they  neared 
the  hill;  they  saw  her,  and  slowly  ascended  the  knoll. 
The  one  was  dressed  in  the  serge  of  a  pilgrim,  and 
his  cowl  thrown  back,  showed  the  face  where  human 
beauty  and  human  power  lay  ravaged  and  ruined  by 
human  passions.  He  upon  whom  the  pilgrim  lightly 
leaned  was  attired  simply,  without  the  brooch  or  brace- 
let common  to  thegns  of  high  degree,  yet  his  port  was 
that  of  majesty,  and  his  brow  that  of  mild  command. 
A  greater  contrast  could  not  be  conceived  than  that 
between  these  two  men,  yet  united  by  a  family  like- 
ness. For  the  countenance  of  the  last  described  was, 
though  sorrowful  at  that  moment,  and  indeed  habitu- 
ally not  without  a  certain  melancholy,  wonderfully  im- 
posing from  its  calm  and  sweetness.  There,  no  de- 
vouring passions  had  left  the  cloud  or  ploughed  the 
line;  but  all  the  smooth  loveliness  of  youth  took  dig- 
nity from  the  conscious  resolve  of  men.  The  long 
hair,  of  a  fair  brown,  with  a  slight  tinge  of  gold,  as 
the  last  sunbeams  shot  through  its  luxuriance,  was 
parted  from  the  temples,  and  fell  in  large  waves  half 
way  to  the  shoulder.  The  eyebrows,  darker  in  hue, 
arched  and  finely  traced;  the  straight  features,  not  less 
manly  than  the  Norman,  but  less  strongly  marked: 
the  cheek,  hardy  with  exercise  and  exposure,  yet  still 
retaining  somewhat  of  youthful  bloom  under  the  pale 
bronze  of  its  sunburnt  surface:  the  form  tall,  not  gi- 
gantic, and  vigorous  rather  from  perfect  proportion 
and  athletic  habits  than  from  breadth  and  bulk — were 


HAROLD  125 

all  singularly  characteristic  of  the  Saxon  beauty  in  its 
highest  and  purest  type.  But  what  chiefly  distin- 
guished this  personage,  was  that  peculiar  dignity,  so 
simple,  so  sedate,  which  no  pomp  seems  to  dazzle, 
no  danger  to  disturb;  and  which  perhaps  arises  from  a 
strong  sense  of  self-dependence,  and  is  connected  with 
self-respect — a  dignity  common  to  the  Indian  and  the 
Arab,  and  rare  except  in  that  state  of  society  in  which 
each  man  is  a  power  in  himself.  The  Latin  tragic 
poet  touches  close  upon  that  sentiment  in  the  fine 

lines — 

"  Rex  est  qui  metuit  nihil ; 
Hoc  regnum  sibi  quisque  dat."  * 

So  stood  the  brothers,  Sweyn  the  outlaw  and  Harold 
the  Earl,  before  the  reputed  prophetess.  She  looked 
on  both  with  a  steady  eye,  which  gradually  softened 
almost  into  tenderness,  as  it  finally  rested  upon  the 
pilgrim. 

"  And  is  it  thus,"  she  said  at  last,  "  that  I  see  the 
first-born  of  Godwin  the  fortunate,  for  whom  so  often 
I  have  tasked  the  thunder,  and  watched  the  setting 
sun?  for  whom  my  runes  have  been  graven  on  the 
bark  of  the  elm,  and  the  Scin-laeca  2  been  called  in  pale 
splendour  from  the  graves  of  the  dead?" 

"  Hilda,"  said  Sweyn,  "  not  now  will  I  accuse  thee 
of  the  seeds  thou  hast  sown:  the  harvest  is  gathered 
and  the  sickle  is  broken.  Abjure  thy  dark  Galdra,8 
and  turn  as  I  to  the  sole  light  in  the  future,  which 
shines  from  the  tomb  of  the  Son  Divine." 

1  SENECA,  Thyest.  Act  ii. — "  He  is  a  king  who  fears  nothing; 
that  kingdom  every  man  gives  to  himself." 

2  Scin-laeca,  literally  a  shining  corpse ;    a  species  of  appari- 
tion invoked  by  the  witch  or  wizard. — See  SHARON  TURNER  ott 
The  Superstitions  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  b.  ii.  c.  14. 

8  Galdra,  magic. 


126  HAROLD 

The  Prophetess  bowed  her  head  and  replied: 

"  Belief  cometh  as  the  wind.  Can  the  tree  say  to 
the  wind,  '  Rest  thou  on  my  boughs/  or  Man  to  Be- 
lief, 'Fold  thy  wings  on  my  heart'?  Go  where  thy 
soul  can  find  comfort,  for  thy  life  hath  passed  from  its 
use  on  earth.  And  when  I  would  read  thy  fate,  the 
runes  are  as  blanks,  and  the  wave  sleeps  unstirred  on 
the  fountain.  Go  where  the  Fylgia,1  whom  Alfader 
gives  to  each  at  his  birth,  leads  thee.  Thou  didst  de- 
sire love  that  seemed  shut  from  thee,  and  I  predicted 
that  thy  love  should  awake  from  the  charnel  in  which 
the  creed  that  succeeds  to  the  faith  of  our  sires  inters 
life  in  its  bloom.  And  thou  didst  covet  the  fame  of 
the  Jarl  and  the  Viking,  and  I  blessed  thine  axe  to 
thy  hand,  and  wove  the  sail  for  thy  masts.  So  long 
as  man  knows  desire,  can  Hilda  have  power  over  his 
doom.  But  when  the  heart  lies  in  ashes,  I  raise  but 
a  corpse,  that  at  the  hush  of  the  charm  falls  again  into 
its  grave.  Yet,  come  to  me  nearer,  O  Sweyn,  whose 
cradle  I  rocked  to  the  chant  of  my  rhyme." 

The  outlaw  turned  aside  his  face,  and  obeyed. 

She  sighed  as  she  took  his  passive  hand  in  her 
own,  and  examined  the  lines  on  the  palm.  Then,  as 
if  by  an  involuntary  impulse  of  fondness  and  pity,  she 
put  aside  his  cowl  and  kissed  his  brow. 

"  Thy  skein  is  spun,  and  happier  than  the  many 
who  scorn,  and  the  few  who  lament  thee,  thou  shalt 
win  where  they  lose.  The  steel  shall  not  smite  thee, 
the  storm  shall  forbear  thee,  the  goal  that  thou  yearn- 
est  for  thy  steps  shall  attain.  Night  hallows  the  ruin, 
— and  peace  to  the  shattered  wrecks  of  the  brave!  " 

The  outlaw  heard  as  if  unmoved.     But  when  he 

1  Fylgia,  tutelary  divinity.  See  Note  (H),  at  the  end  of  the 
volume. 


HAROLD  127 

turned  to  Harold,  who  covered  his  face  with  his  hand, 
but  could  not  restrain  the  tears  that  flowed  through  the 
clasped  ringers,  a  moisture  came  into  his  own  wild, 
bright  eyes,  and  he  said,  "  Now,  my  brother,  farewell, 
for  no  farther  step  shalt  thou  wend  with  me." 

Harold  started,  opened  his  arms,  and  the  outlaw 
fell  upon  his  breast. 

No  sound  was  heard  save  a  single  sob,  and  so  close 
was  breast  to  breast,  that  you  could  not  say  from 
whose  heart  it  came.  Then  the  outlaw  wrenched  him- 
self from  the  embrace,  and  murmured,  "  And  Haco 
— my  son — motherless,  fatherless — hostage  in  the 
land  of  the  stranger!  Thou  wilt  remember — thou  wilt 
shield  him;  thou  be  to  him  mother,  father  in  the  days 
to  come!  So  may  the  saints  bless  thee! "  With 
these  words  he  sprang  down  the  hillock. 

Harold  bounded  after  him;  but  Sweyn,  halting,  said,, 
mournfully,  "  Is  this  thy  promise?  Am  I  so  lost  that 
faith  should  be  broken  even  with  thy  father's  son?" 

At  that  touching  rebuke,  Harold  paused,  and  the 
outlaw  passed  his  way  alone.  As  the  last  glimpse  of 
his  figure  vanished  at  the  turn  of  the  road,  whence,  on 
the  second  of  May,  the  Norman  Duke  and  the  Saxon 
King  had  emerged  side  by  side,  the  short  twilight 
closed  abruptly,  and  up  from  the  far  forestland  rose 
the  moon. 

Harold  stood  rooted  to  the  spot,  and  still  gazing 
on  the  space,  when  the  Vala  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Behold,  as  the  moon  rises  on  the  troubled  gloam- 
ing, so  rises  the  fate  of  Harold,  as  yon  brief,  human 
shadow,  halting  between  light  and  darkness,  passes 
away  to  night.  Thou  art  now  the  first-born  of  a 
House  that  unites  the  hopes  of  the  Saxon  with  the  for- 
tunes of  the  Dane." 


128  HAROLD 

"  Thinkest  thou,"  said  Harold,  with  a  stern  com- 
posure, "  that  I  can  have  joy  and  triumph  in  a  brother's 
exile  and  woe?  " 

"  Not  now,  and  not  yet,  will  the  voice  of  thy  true 
nature  be  heard;  but  the  warmth  of  the  sun  brings  the 
thunder,  and  the  glory  of  fortune  wakes  the  storm  of 
the  soul." 

"  Kinswoman,"  said  Harold,  with  a  slight  curl  of 
his  lip,  "  by  me  at  least  have  thy  prophecies  ever 
passed  as  the  sough  of  the  air;  neither  in  horror  nor 
with  faith  do  I  think  of  thy  incantations  and  charms; 
and  I  smile  alike  at  the  exorcism  of  the  shaveling  and 
the  spells  of  the  Saga.  I  have  asked  thee  not  to  bless 
mine  axe,  nor  weave  my  sail.  No  runic  rhyme  is  on 
the  sword-blade  of  Harold.  I  leave  my  fortunes  to 
the  chance  of  mine  own  cool  brain  and  strong  arm. 
Vala,  between  thee  and  me  there  is  no  bond." 

The  Prophetess  smiled  loftily. 

"And  what  thinkest  thou,  O  self-dependent!  what 
thinkest  thou  is  the  fate  which  thy  brain  and  thine  arm 
shall  win?" 

"  The  fate  they  have  won  already.  I  see  no  Be- 
yond. The  fate  of  a  man  sworn  to  guard  his  country, 
love  justice,  and  do  right." 

The  moon  shone  full  on  the  heroic  face  of  the  young 
Earl  as  he  spoke ;  and "  on  its  surface  there  seemed 
nought  to  belie  the  noble  words.  Yet,  the  Prophetess, 
gazing  earnestly  on  that  fair  countenance,  said,  in  a 
whisper,  that,  despite  a  reason  singularly  sceptical  for 
the  age  in  which  it  had  been  cultured,  thrilled  to  the 
Saxon's  heart,  "  Under  that  calm  eye  sleeps  the  soul 
of  thy  sire,  and  beneath  that  brow,  so  haught  and  so 
pure,  works  the  genius  that  crowned  the  kings  of  the 
north  in  the  lineage  of  thy  mother  the  Dane." 


HAROLD  129 

"  Peace ! "  said  Harold,  almost  fiercely ;  then,  as  if 
ashamed  of  the  weakness  of  his  momentary  irrita- 
tion, he  added,  with  a  faint  smile,  "  Let  us  not  talk  of 
these  matters  while  my  heart  is  still  sad  and  away  from 
the  thoughts  of  the  world,  with  my  brother  the  lonely 
outlaw.  Night  is  on  us,  and  the  ways  are  yet  un- 
safe; for  the  king's  troops,  disbanded  in  haste,  were 
made  up  of  many  who  turn  to  robbers  in  peace. 
Alone,  and  unarmed,  save  my  ateghar,  I  would  crave 
a  night's  rest  under  thy  roof;  and  " — he  hesitated,  and 
as  light  blush  came  over  his  cheek — "  and  I  would  fain 
see  if  your  grandchild  is  as  fair  as  when  I  last  looked 
on  her  blue  eyes,  that  then  wept  for  Harold  ere  he 
went  into  exile." 

"  Her  tears  are  not  at  her  command,  nor  her 
smiles,"  said  the  Vala,  solemnly;  "  her  tears  flow  from 
the  fount  of  thy  sorrows,  and  her  smiles  are  the  beams 
from  thy  joys.  For  know,  O  Harold!  that  Edith  is 
thine  earthly  Fylgia;  thy  fate  and  her  fate  are  as  one. 
And  vainly  as  man  would  escape  from  his  shadow, 
would  soul  wrench  itself  from  the  soul  that  Skulda 
hath  linked  to  his  doom." 

Harold  made  no  reply;  but  his  step,  habitually  slow, 
grew  more  quick  and  light,  and  this  time  his  reason 
found  no  fault  with  the  oracles  of  the  Vala. 


CHAPTER    V 

As  Hilda  entered  the  hall,  the  various  idlers  accus- 
tomed to  feed  at  her  cost  were  about  retiring,  some 
to  their  homes  in  the  vicinity,  some,  appertaining  to 
the  household,  to  the  dormitories  in  the  old  Roman 
villa. 

VOL.  I.— p 


130  HAROLD 

It  was  not  the  habit  of  the  Saxon  noble,  as  it  was 
of  the  Norman,  to  put  hospitality  to  profit,  by  regard- 
ing his  guests  in  the  light  of  armed  retainers.  Liberal 
as  the  Briton,  the  cheer  of  the  board  and  the  shelter 
of  the  roof  were  afforded  with  a  hand  equally  unselfish 
and  indiscriminate ;  and  the  doors  of  the  more  wealthy 
and  munificent  might  be  almost  literally  said  to  stand 
open  from  morn  to  eve. 

As  Harold  followed  the  Vala  across  the  vast  atrium, 
his  face  was  recognised,  and  a  shout  of  enthusiastic 
welcome  greeted  the  popular  Earl.  The  only  voices 
that  did  not  swell  that  cry  were  those  of  three  monks 
from  a  neighbouring  convent,  who  chose  to  wink  at 
the  supposed  practices  of  the  Morthwyrtha,1  from  the 
affection  they  bore  to  her  ale  and  mead,  and  the  grati- 
tude they  felt  for  her  ample  gifts  to  their  convent. 

"  One  of  the  wicked  House,  brother,"  whispered  the 
monk. 

"  Yea;  mockers  and  scorners  are  Godwin  and  his 
lewd  sons,"  answered  the  monk 

And  all  three  sighed  and  scowled,  as  the  door  closed 
on  the  hostess  and  her  stately  guest. 

Two  tall  and  not  ungraceful  lamps  lighted  the  same 
chamber  in  which  Hilda  was  first  presented  to  the 
reader.  The  handmaids  were  still  at  their  spindles, 
and  the  white  web  nimbly  shot  as  the  mistress  entered. 
She  paused,  and  her  brow  knit,  as  she  eyed  the  work. 

"  But  three  parts  done?  "  she  said,  "  weave  fast,  and 
weave  strong." 

Harold,  not  heeding  the  maids  or  their  task,  gazed 

inquiringly  round,  and  from  a  nook  near  the  window, 

Edith  sprang  forward  with  a  joyous  cry,  and  a  face  all 

glowing  with  delight — sprang  forward,  as  if  to  the 

1  Morthwyrtha,  worshipper  of  the  dead. 


HAROLD  131 

arms  of  a  brother;  but,  within  a  step  or  so  of  that  noble 
guest,  she  stopped  short,  and  her  eyes  fell  to  the 
ground. 

Harold  held  his  breath  in  admiring  silence.  The 
child  he  had  loved  from  her  cradle  stood  before  him 
as  a  woman.  Even  since  we  last  saw  her,  in  the  in- 
terval between  the  spring  and  the  autumn,  the  year 
had  ripened  the  youth  of  the  maiden,  as  it  had  mel- 
lowed the  fruits  of  the  earth;  and  her  cheek  was 
rosy  with  the  celestial  blush,  and  her  form  rounded 
to  the  nameless  grace,  which  say  that  infancy  is  no 
more. 

He  advanced  and  took  her  hand,  but  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life  in  their  greetings,  he  neither  gave  nor 
received  the  kiss. 

"  You  are  no  child  now,  Edith,"  said  he,  involun- 
tarily; "but  still  set  apart,  I  pray  you,  some  remains 
of  the  old  childish  love  for  Harold." 

Edith's  charming  lips  smiled  softly;  she  raised  her 
eyes  to  his,  and  their  innocent  fondness  spoke  through 
happy  tears. 

But  few  words  passed  in  the  short  interval  between 
Harold's  entrance  and  his  retirement  to  the  cham- 
ber prepared  for  him  in  haste.  Hilda  herself  led  him 
to  a  rude  ladder  which  admitted  to  a  room  above,  evi- 
dently added,  by  some  Saxon  lord,  to  the  old  Roman 
pile.  The  ladder  showed  the  precaution  of  one  ac- 
customed to  sleep  in  the  midst  of  peril ;  for,  by  a  kind 
of  windlass  in  the  room,  it  could  be  drawn  up  at  the 
inmate's  will,  and,  so  drawn,  left  below  a  dark  and 
deep  chasm,  delving  down  to  the  foundations  of  the 
house;  nevertheless  the  room  itself  had  all  the  luxury 
of  the  time;  the  bedstead  was  quaintly  carved,  and  of 
some  rare  wood;  a  trophy  of  arms — though  very  an- 


132  HAROLD 

cient,  sedulously  polished — hung  on  the  wall.  There 
were  the  small  round  shield  and  spear  of  the  earlier 
Saxon,  with  his  visorless  hemi,  and  the  short  curved 
knife  or  saex,1  from  which  some  antiquarians  deem 
.  that  the  Saxish  men  take  their  renowned  name. 

Edith,  following  Hilda,  proffered  to  the  guest,  on  a 
salver  of  gold,  spiced  wines  and  confections;  while 
Hilda,  silently  and  unperceived,  waved  her  seid  staff 
over  the  bed,  and  rested  her  pale  hand  on  the  pillow. 

"  Nay,  sweet  cousin,"  said  Harold,  smiling,  "  this  is 
not  one  of  the  fashions  of  old,  but  rather,  methinks, 
borrowed  from  the  Prankish  manners  in  the  court  of 
King  Edward." 

"  Not  so,  Harold,"  answered  Hilda,  quickly  turning; 
"  such  was  ever  the  ceremony  due  to  Saxon  king, 
when  he  slept  in  a  subject's  house,  ere  our  kinsmen 
the  Danes  introduced  that  unroyal  wassail,  which  left 
subject  and  king  unable  to  hold  or  to  quaff  cun,  when 
the  board  was  left  for  the  bed." 

"  Thou  rebukest,  O  Hilda,  too  tauntingly,  the  pride 
of  Godwin's  house,  when  thou  givest  to  his  homely 
son  the  ceremonial  of  a  king.  But,  so  served,  I  envy 
not  kings,  fair  Edith." 

He  took  the  cup,  raised  it  to  his  lips,  and  when  he 
placed  it  on  the  small  table  by  his  side  the  women  had 
left  the  chamber,  and  he  was  alone.  He  stood  for 
some  minutes  absorbed  in  reverie,  and  his  soliloquy 
ran  somewhat  thus: 

"  Why  said  the  Vala  that  Edith's  fate  was  inwoven 

1  It  is  a  disputed  question  whether  the  saex  of  the  earliest 
Saxon  invaders  was  a  long  or  short  curved  weapon, — nay, 
whether  it  was  curved  or  straight;  but  the  author  sides  with 
those  who  contend  that  it  was  a  short,  crooked  weapon,  easily 
concealed  by  a  cloak,  and  similar  to  those  depicted  on  the 
banner  of  the  East  Saxons. 


HAROLD  133 

with  mine?  And  why  did  I  believe  and  bless  the  Vala, 
when  she  so  said?  Can  Edith  ever  be  my  wife?  The 
monk-king  designs  her  for  the  cloister — Woe,  and 
well-a-day!  —  Sweyn,  Sweyn,  let  thy  doom  forewarn 
me!  And  if  I  stand  up  in  my  place  and  say,  '  Give 
age  and  grief  to  the  cloister — youth  and  delight  to 
man's  hearth,'  what  will  answer  the  monks?  '  Edith 
cannot  be  thy  wife,  son  of  Godwin,  for  faint  and  scarce 
traced  though  your  affinity  of  blood,  ye  are  within 
the  banned  degrees  of  the  Church.  Edith  may  be 
wife  to  another,  if  thou  wilt, — barren  spouse  of  the 
Church  or  mother  of  children  who  lisp  not  Harold's 
name  as  their  father.'  Out  on  these  priests  with  their 
mummeries,  and  out  on  their  war  upon  human 
hearts!" 

His  fair  brow  grew  stern  and  fierce  as  the  Norman 
Duke's  in  his  ire;  and  had  you  seen  him  at  the  mo- 
ment you  would  have  seen  the  true  brother  of  Sweyn. 
He  broke  from  his  thoughts  with  the  strong  effort  of 
a  man  habituated  to  self-control,  and  advanced  to  the 
narrow  window,  opened  the  lattice,  and  looked  out. 

The  moon  was  in  all  her  splendour.  The  long  deep 
shadows  of  the  breathless  forest  checkered  the  silvery 
whiteness  of  open  sward  and  intervening  glade. 
Ghostly  arose  on  the  knoll  before  him  the  grey  col- 
umns of  the  mystic  Druid, — dark  and  indistinct  the 
bloody  altar  of  the  Warrior  god.  But  there  his  eye 
was  arrested;  for  whatever  is  least  distinct  and  de- 
fined in  a  landscape  has  the  charm  that  is  the  strong- 
est; and,  while  he  gazed,  he  thought  that  a  pale  phos- 
phoric light  broke  from  the  mound  with  the  bautastein, 
that  rose  by  the  Teuton  altar.  He  thought,  for  he  was 
not  sure  that  it  was  not  some  cheat  of  the  fancy.  Gaz- 
ing still,  in  the  centre  of  that  light  there  appeared  to 


134  HAROLD 

gleam  forth,  for  one  moment,  a  form  of  superhuman 
height.  It  was  the  form  of  a  man,  that  seemed  clad 
in  arms  like  those  on  the  wall,  leaning  on  a  spear, 
whose  point  was  lost  behind  the  shafts  of  the  crom- 
mell.  And  the  face  grew  in  that  moment  distinct 
from  the  light  which  shimmered  around  it,  a  face  large  , 
as  some  early  god's,  but  stamped  with  unutterable  and 
solemn  woe.  He  drew  back  a  step,  passed  his  hand 
over  his  eyes,  and  looked  again.  Light  and  figure 
alike  had  vanished;  nought  was  seen  save  the  grey  col- 
umns and  dim  fane.  The  Earl's  lip  curved  in  derision 
of  his  weakness.  He  closed  the  lattice,  undressed, 
knelt  for  a  moment  or  so  by  the  bedside,  and  his 
prayer  was  brief  and  simple,  nor  accompanied  with 
the  crossings  and  signs  customary  in  his  age.  He 
rose,  extinguished  the  lamp,  and  threw  himself  on  the 
bed. 

The  moon,  thus  relieved  of  the  lamp-light,  came 
clear  and  bright  through  the  room,  shone  on  the 
trophied  arms,  and  fell  upon  Harold's  face,  casting  its 
brightness  on  the  pillow  on  which  the  Vala  had 
breathed  her  charm.  And  Harold  slept — slept  long — 
his  face  calm,  his  breathing  regular:  but  ere  the  moon 
sunk  and  the  dawn  rose  the  features  were  dark  and 
troubled,  the  breath  came  by  gasps,  the  brow  was  knit, 
and  the  teeth  clenched. 


BOOK   IV 

THE  HEATHEN  ALTAR  AND  THE  SAXON  CHURCH 

CHAPTER   I 

While  Harold  sleeps,  let  us  here  pause  to  survey 
for  the  first  time  the  greatness  of  that  House  to  which 
Sweyn's  exile  had  left  him  the  heir.  The  fortunes  of 
Godwin  had  been  those  which  no  man  not  eminently 
versed  in  the  science  of  his  kind  can  achieve.  Though 
the  fable  which  some  modern  historians  of  great  name 
have  repeated  and  detailed,  as  to  his  early  condition 
as  the  son  of  a  cow-herd,  is  utterly  groundless,1  and 
he  belonged  to  a  house  all-powerful  at  the  time  of  his 
youth,  he  was  unquestionably  the  builder  of  his  own 
greatness.  That  he  should  rise  so  high  in  the  early 
part  of  his  career  was  less  remarkable  than  that  he 
should  have  so  long  continued  the  possessor  of  a 
power  and  state  in  reality  more  than  regal. 

But,  as  has  been  before  implied,  Godwin's  civil  ca- 
pacities were  more  prominent  than  his  warlike.  And 
this  it  is  which  invests  him  with  that  peculiar  interest 
which  attracts  us  to  those  who  knit  our  modern  in- 
telligence with  the  past.  In  that  dim  world  before 
the  Norman  deluge,  we  are  startled  to  recognise  the 
gifts  that  ordinarily  distinguish  a  man  of  peace  in  a 
civilised  age. 

1  See  Note  (I),  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


136  HAROLD 

His  father,  Wolnoth,  had  been  "  Childe  " 1  of  the 
South  Saxons,  or  thegn  of  Sussex,  a  nephew  of  Edric 
Streone,  Earl  of  Mercia,  the  unprincipled  but  able  min- 
ister of  Ethelred,  who  betrayed  his  master  to  Canute, 
by  whom,  according  to  most  authorities,  he  was  right- 
eously, though  not  very  legally,  slain  as  a  reward  for 
the  treason. 

"  I  promised,"  said  the  Dane  king,  "  to  set  thy  head 
higher  than  other  men's,  and  I  keep  my  word."  The 
trunkless  head  was  set  on  the  gates  of  London. 

Wolnoth  had  quarrelled  with  his  uncle  Brightric, 
Edric's  brother,  and  before  the  arrival  of  Canute,  had 
beteken  himself  to  the  piracy  of  a  sea  chief,  seduced 
twenty  of  the  king's  ships,  plundered  the  southern 
coasts,  burnt  the  royal  navy,  and  then  his  history  dis- 
appears from  the  chronicles;  but  immediately  after- 
wards the  great  Danish  army,  called  Thurkell's  Host, 
invaded  the  coast,  and  kept  their  chief  station  on  the 
Thames.  Their  victorious  arms  soon  placed  the 
country  almost  at  their  command.  The  traitor  Edric 
joined  them  with  a  power  of  more  than  10,000  men; 
and  it  is  probable  enough  that  the  ships  of  Wolnoth 
had  before  this  time  melted  amicably  into  the  arma- 
ment of  the  Danes.  If  this,  which  seems  the  most 
likely  conjecture,  be  received,  Godwin,  then  a  mere 
youth,  would  naturally  have  commenced  his  career  in 
the  cause  of  Canute;  and  as  the  son  of  a  formidable 

1  Saxon  Chronicle,  Florence  Wigorn.  Sir  F.  Palgrave  says 
that  the  title  of  Childe  is  equivalent  to  that  of  Atheling.  With 
that  remarkable  appreciation  of  evidence  which  generally  makes 
him  so  invaluable  as  a  judicial  authority  where  accounts  are 
contradictory,  Sir  F.  Palgrave  discards  with  silent  contempt 
the  absurd  romance  of  Godwin's  station  of  herdsman,  to  which, 
upon  such  very  fallacious  and  flimsy  authorities,  Thierry  and 
Sharon  Turner  have  been  betrayed  into  lending  their  distin- 
guished names. 


HAROLD  137 

chief  of  thegn's  rank,  and  even  as  kinsman  to  Edric, 
who,  whatever  his  crimes,  must  have  retained  a  party 
it  was  wise  to  conciliate,  Godwin's  favour  with  Canute, 
whose  policy  would  lead  him  to  show  marked  distinc- 
tion to  any  able  Saxon  follower,  ceases  to  be  surpris- 
ing. 

The  son  of  Wolnoth  accompanied  Canute  in  his  mil- 
itary expedition  to  the  Scandinavian  continent,  and 
here  a  signal  victory,  planned  by  Godwin  and  exe- 
cuted solely  by  himself  and  the  Saxon  band  under  his 
command,  without  aid  from  Canute's  Danes,  made 
the  most  memorable  military  exploit  of  his  life,  and 
confirmed  his  rising  fortunes. 

Edric,  though  he  is  said  to  have  been  low  born,  had 
married  the  sister  of  King  Ethelred;  and  as  Godwin 
advanced  in  fame,  Canute  did  not  disdain  to  bestow 
his  own  sister  in  marriage  on  the  eloquent  favourite, 
who  probably  kept  no  small  portion  of  the  Saxon 
population  to  their  allegiance.  On  the  death  of  this, 
his  first  wife,  who  bore  him  but  one  son  *  (who  died 
by  accident),  he  found  a  second  spouse  in  the  same 
royal  house;  and  the  mother  of  his  six  living  sons 
and  two  daughters  was  the  niece  of  his  king,  and  sis- 
ter of  Sweyn,  who  subsequently  filled  the  throne  of 
Denmark.  After  the  death  of  Canute,  the  Saxon's 
predilections  in  favour  of  the  Saxon  line  became  ap- 
parent; but  it  was  either  his  policy  or  his  principles 
always  to  defer  to  the  popular  will  as  expressed  in  the 
national  council;  and  on  the  preference  given  by  the 
Witan  to  Harold  the  son  of  Canute  over  the  heirs  of 
Ethelred,  he  yielded  his  own  inclinations.  The  great 

1  This  first  wife  Thyra,  was  of  very  unpopular  repute  with 
the  Saxons.  She  was  accused  of  sending  young  English  per- 
sons as  slaves  into  Denmark,  and  is  said  to  have  been  killed 
by  lightning. 


138  HAROLD 

power  of  the  Danes,  and  the  amicable  fusion  of  their 
race  with  the  Saxon  which  had  now  taken  place,  are 
apparent  in  this  decision ;  for  not  only  did  Earl  Leofric, 
of  Mercia,  though  himself  a  Saxon  (as  well  as  the  Earl 
of  Northumbria,  with  the  thegns  north  of  the  Thames), 
declare  for  Harold  the  Dane,  but  the  citizens  of  Lon- 
don were  of  the  same  party;  and  Godwin  represented 
little  more  than  the  feeling  of  his  own  principality  of 
Wessex. 

From  that  time,  Godwin,  however,  became  identi- 
fied with  the  English  cause;  and  even  many  who  be- 
lieved him  guilty  of  some  share  in  the  murder,  or  at 
least  the  betrayal,  of  Alfred,1  Edward's  brother,  sought 
excuses  in  the  disgust  with  which  Godwin  had  re- 
garded the  foreign  retinue  that  Alfred  had  brought 
with  him,  as  if  to  owe  his  throne  to  Norman  swords, 
rather  than  to  English  hearts. 

Hardicanute,  who  succeeded  Harold,  whose  mem- 
ory he  abhorred,  whose  corpse  he  disinterred  and 
flung  into  a  fen,2  had  been  chosen  by  the  unanimous 
council  both  of  English  and  Danish  thegns;  and  de- 
spite Hardicanute's  first  vehement  accusations  of  God- 
win, the  Earl  still  remained  throughout  that  reign  as 
powerful  as  in  the  two  preceding  it.  When  Hardi- 
canute dropped  down  dead  at  a  marriage  banquet,  it 
was  Godwin  who  placed  Edward  upon  the  throne; 
and  that  great  Earl  must  either  have  been  conscious 
of  his  innocence  of  the  murder  of  Edward's  brother, 
or  assured  of  his  own  irresponsible  power,  when  he 

1  It  is  just,  however,  to  Godwin  to  say,  that  there  is  no  proof 
of  his  share  in  this  barbarous  transaction ;    the  presumptions, 
on  the  contrary,  are  in  his  favour ;    but  the  authorities  are  too 
contradictory,  and  the  whole  event  too  obscure,  to  enable  us 
unhesitatingly  to  confirm  the  acquittal  he  received  in  his  own 
age,  and  from  his  own  national  tribunal. 

2  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle. 


HAROLD  139 

said  to  the  prince  who  knelt  at  his  feet,  and,  fearful 
of  the  difficulties  in  his  way,  implored  the  Earl  to  aid 
his  abdication  of  the  throne  and  return  to  Normandy: 

"  You  are  the  son  of  Ethelred,  grandson  of  Edgar. 
Reign,  it  is  your  duty;  better  to  live  in  glory  than  die 
in  exile.  You  are  of  mature  years,  and  having  known 
sorrow  and  need,  can  better  feel  for  your  people.  Rely 
on  me,  and  there  will  be  none  of  the  difficulties  you 
dread;  whom  I  favour,  England  favours." 

And  shortly  afterwards,  in  the  national  assembly, 
Godwin  won  Edward  his  throne.  "  Powerful  in 
speech,  powerful  in  bringing  over  people  to  what  he 
desired,  some  yielded  to  his  words,  some  to  bribes."  x 
Verily,  Godwin  was  a  man  to  have  risen  as  high,  had 
he  lived  later! 

So  Edward  reigned,  and  agreeably,  it  is  said,  with 
previous  stipulations,  married  the  daughter  of  his 
king-maker.  Beautiful  as  Edith  the  Queen  was  in  mind 
and  in  person,  Edward  apparently  loved  her  not.  She 
dwelt  in  his  palace,  his  wife  only  in  name. 

Tostig  (as  we  have  seen)  had  married  the  daughter 
of  Baldwin,  Count  of  Flanders,  sister  to  Matilda,  wife 
to  the  Norman  Duke:  and  thus  the  House  of  Godwin 
was  triply  allied  to  princely  lineage — the  Danish,  the 
Saxon,  the  Flemish.  And  Tostig  might  have  said, 
as  in  his  heart  William  the  Norman  said,  "  My  chil- 
dren shall  descend  from  Charlemagne  and  Alfred." 

Godwin's  life,  though  thus  outwardly  brilliant,  was 
too  incessantly  passed  in  public  affairs  and  politic 
schemes  to  allow  the  worldly  man  much  leisure  to 
watch  over  the  nurture  and  rearing  of  the  bold  spir- 
its of  his  sons.  Githa  his  wife,  the  Dane,  a  woman 
with  a  haughty  but  noble  spirit,  imperfect  education, 
1  William  of  Malmesbury. 


140  HAROLD 

and  some  of  the  wild  and  lawless  blood  derived  from 
her  race  of  heathen  sea-kings,  was  more  fitted  to  stir 
their  ambition  and  inflame  their  fancies,  than  curb 
their  tempers  and  mould  their  hearts. 

We  have  seen  the  career  of  Sweyn;  but  Sweyn  was 
an  angel  of  light  compared  to  his  brother  Tostig.  He 
who  can  be  penitent  has  ever  something  lofty  in  his 
original  nature;  but  Tostig  was  remorseless  as  the  tiger, 
as  treacherous  and  as  fierce.  With  less  intellectual 
capacities  than  any  of  his  brothers,  he  had  more  per- 
sonal ambition  than  all  put  together.  A  kind  of  effem- 
inate vanity,  not  uncommon  with  daring  natures  (for 
the  bravest  races  and  the  bravest  soldiers  are  usually 
the  vainest;  the  desire  to  shine  is  as  visible  in  the  fop 
as  in  the  hero),  made  him  restless  both  for  command 
and  notoriety.  "  May  I  ever  be  in  the  mouths  of 
men,"  was  his  favourite  prayer.  Like  his  maternal 
ancestry,  the  Danes,  he  curled  his  long  hair,  and  went 
as  a  bridegroom  to  the  feast  of  the  ravens. 

Two  only  of  that  house  had  studied  the  Humane 
Letters,  which  were  no  longer  disregarded  by  the 
princes  of  the  Continent;  they  were  the  sweet  sister, 
the  eldest  of  the  family,  fading  fast  in  her  loveless 
home,  and  Harold. 

But  Harold's  mind, — in  which  what  we  call  common 
sense  was  carried  to  genius, — a  mind  singularly  prac- 
tical and  sagacious,  like  his  father's,  cared  little  for 
theological  learning  and  priestly  legend — for  all  that 
poesy  of  religion  in  which  the  Woman  was  wafted 
from  the  sorrows  of  earth. 

Godwin  himself  was  no  favourite  of  the  Church,  and 
had  seen  too  much  of  the  abuses  of  the  Saxon  priest- 
hood, (perhaps,  with  few  exceptions,  the  most  cor- 
rupt and  illiterate  in  all  Europe,  which  is  saying  much,) 


HAROLD  141 

to  instil  into  his  children  that  reverence  for  the  spir- 
itual authority  which  existed  abroad;  and  the  enlight- 
enment, which  in  him  was  experience  in  life,  was  in 
Harold,  betimes,  the  result  of  study  and  reflection. 
The  few  books  of  the  classical  world  then  within  reach 
of  the  student  opened  to  the  young  Saxon  views  of 
human  duties  and  human  responsibilities  utterly  dis- 
tinct from  the  unmeaning  ceremonials  and  fleshly  mor- 
tifications in  which  even  the  higher  theology  of  that 
day  placed  the  elements  of  virtue.  He  smiled  in  scorn 
when  some  Dane,  whose  life  had  been  passed  in  the 
alternate  drunkenness  of  wine  and  of  blood,  thought 
he  had  opened  the  gates  of  heaven  by  bequeathing 
lands  gained  by  a  robber's  sword,  to  pamper  the  lazy 
sloth  of  some  fifty  monks.  If  those  monks  had  pre- 
sumed to  question  his  own  actions,  his  disdain  would 
have  been  mixed  with  simple  wonder  that  men  so  be- 
sotted in  ignorance,  and  who  could  not  construe  the 
Latin  of  the  very  prayers  they  pattered,  should  pre- 
sume to  be  the  judges  of  educated  men.  It  is  possible 
— for  his  nature  was  earnest — that  a  pure  and  enlight- 
ened clergy,  that  even  a  clergy,  though  defective  in  life, 
zealous  in  duty  and  cultivated  in  mind, — such  a  clergy 
as  Alfred  sought  to  found,  and  as  Lanfranc  endeav- 
oured (not  without  some  success)  to  teach — would 
have  bowed  his  strong  sense  to  that  grand  and  subtle 
truth  which  dwells  in  spiritual  authority.  But  as  it  was, 
he  stood  aloof  from  the  rude  superstition  of  his  age, 
and  early  in  life  made  himself  the  arbiter  of  his  own 
conscience.  Reducing  his  religion  to  the  simplest 
elements  of  our  creed,  he  found  rather  in  the  books 
of  Heathen  authors  than  in  the  lives  of  the  saints,  his 
notions  of  the  larger  morality  which  relates  to  the 
citizen  and  the  man.  The  love  of  country;  the  sense 


142  HAROLD 

of  justice;  fortitude  in  adverse  and  temperance  in 
prosperous  fortune,  became  portions  of  his  very  mind. 
Unlike  his  father,  he  played  no  actor's  part  in  those 
qualities  which  had  won  him  the  popular  heart.  He 
was  gentle  and  affable;  above  all,  he  was  fair-dealing 
and  just,  not  because  it  was  politic  to  seem,  but  his 
nature  to  be,  so. 

Nevertheless,  Harold's  character,  beautiful  and  sub- 
lime in  many  respects  as  it  was,  had  its  strong  leaven 
of  human  imperfection  in  that  very  self-dependence 
which  was  born  of  his  reason  and  his  pride.  In 
resting  so  solely  on  man's  perceptions  of  the  right, 
he  lost  one  attribute  of  the  true  hero — faith.  We  do 
not  mean  that  word  in  the  religious  sense  alone,  but 
in  the  more  comprehensive.  He  did  not  rely  on  the 
Celestial  Something  pervading  all  nature,  never  seen, 
only  felt  when  duly  courted,  stronger  and  lovelier  than 
what  eye  could  behold  and  mere  reason  could  em- 
brace. Believing,  it  is  true,  in  God,  he  lost  those  fine 
links  that  unite  God  to  man's  secret  heart,  and  which 
are  woven  alike  from  the  simplicity  of  the  child  and 
the  wisdom  of  the  poet.  To  use  a  modern  illustration, 
his  large  mind  was  a  "  cupola  lighted  from  below." 

His  bravery,  though  inflexible  as  the  fiercest  sea- 
king's,  when  need  arose  for  its  exercise,  was  not  his 
prominent  characteristic.  He  despised  the  brute  val- 
our of  Tostig, — his  bravery  was  a  necessary  part  of  a 
firm  and  balanced  manhood — the  bravery  of  Hector, 
not  Achilles.  Constitutionally  averse  to  bloodshed, 
he  could  seem  timid  where  daring  only  gratified  a 
wanton  vanity,  or  aimed  at  a  selfish  object.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  duty  demanded  daring,  no  danger  could 
deter,  no  policy  warp  him; — he  could  seem  rash;  he 
could  even  seem  merciless.  In  the  what  ought  to  be, 
he  understood  a  must  be. 


HAROLD  143 

And  it  was  natural  to  this  peculiar,  yet  thoroughly 
English  temperament,  to  be,  in  action,  rather  stead- 
fast and  patient  than  quick  and  ready.  Placed  in  per- 
ils familiar  to  him,  nothing  could  exceed  his  vigour 
and  address;  but  if  taken  unawares,  and  before  his 
judgment  could  come  to  his  aid,  he  was  liable  to  be 
surprised  into  error.  Large  minds  are  rarely  quick, 
unless  they  have  been  corrupted  into  unnatural  vigi- 
lance by  the  necessities  of  suspicion.  But  a  nature 
more  thoroughly  unsuspecting,  more  frank,  trustful, 
and  genuinely  loyal  than  that  young  Earl's,  it  was 
impossible  to  conceive.  All  these  attributes  consid- 
ered, we  have  the  key  to  much  of  Harold's  char- 
acter and  conduct  in  the  later  events  of  his  fated  and 
tragic  life. 

But  with  this  temperament,  so  manly  and  simple, 
we  are  not  to  suppose  that  Harold,  while  rejecting  the 
superstitions  of  one  class,  was  so  far  beyond  his  time 
as  to  reject  those  of  another.  No  son  of  fortune,  no 
man  placing  himself  and  the  world  in  antagonism,  can 
ever  escape  from  some  belief  in  the  Invisible.  Caesar 
could  ridicule  and  profane  the  mystic  rites  of  Roman 
mythology,  but  he  must  still  believe  in  his  fortune, 
as  in  a  god.  And  Harold,  in  his  very  studies,  seeing 
the  freest  and  boldest  minds  of  antiquity  subjected  to 
influences  akin  to  those  of  his  Saxon  forefathers,  felt 
less  shame  in  yielding  to  them,  vain  as  they  might 
be,  than  in  monkish  impostures  so  easily  detected. 
Though  hitherto  he  had  rejected  all  direct  appeal  to 
the  magic  devices  of  Hilda,  the  sound  of  her  dark 
sayings,  heard  in  childhood,  still  vibrated  on  his  soul 
as  man.  Belief  in  omens,  in  days  lucky  or  unlucky, 
in  the  stars,  was  universal  in  every  class  of  the  Saxon. 
Harold  had  his  own  fortunate  day,  the  day  of  his  na- 


144  HAROLD 

tivity,  the  I4th  of  October.  All  enterprises  under- 
taken on  that  day  had  hitherto  been  successful.  He 
believed  in  the  virtue  of  that  day,  as  Cromwell  believed 
in  his  3d  of  September.  For  the  rest,  we  have  described 
him  as  he  was  in  that  part  of  his  career  in  which  he 
is  now  presented.  Whether  altered  by  fate  and  cir- 
cumstances, time  will  show.  As  yet,  no  selfish  am- 
bition leagued  with  the  natural  desire  of  youth  and 
intellect  for  their  fair  share  of  fame  and  power.  His 
patriotism,  fed  by  the  example  of  Greek  and  Roman 
worthies,  was  genuine,  pure,  and  ardent;  he  could 
have  stood  in  the  pass  with  Leonidas,  or  leaped  into 
the  gulf  with  Curtius. 


CHAPTER  II 

At  dawn,  Harold  woke  from  uneasy  and  broken 
slumbers,  and  his  eyes  fell  upon  the  face  of  Hilda, 
large,  and  fair,  and  unutterably  calm,  as  the  face  of 
Egyptian  sphinx. 

"  Have  thy  dreams  been  prophetic,  son  of  God- 
win?" said  the  Vala. 

"  Our  Lord  forfend,"  replied  the  Earl,  with  unusual 
devoutness. 

"Tell  them,  and  let  me  read  the  rede;  sense  dwells 
in  the  voices  of  the  night." 

Harold  mused,  and  after  a  short  pause,  he  said: 

"  Methinks,  Hilda,  I  can  myself  explain  how  those 
dreams  came  to  haunt  me." 

Then  raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  he  continued, 
while  he  fixed  his  clear  penetrating  eyes  upon  his 
hostess : — 

"  Tell  me  frankly,  Hilda,  didst  thou  not  cause  some 


HAROLD  145 

light  to  shine  on  yonder  knoll,  by  the  mound  and  stone, 
within  the  temple  of  the  Druids?  " 

But  if  Harold  had  suspected  himself  to  be  the  dupe 
of  some  imposture,  the  thought  vanished  when  he  saw 
the  look  of  keen  interest,  even  of  awe,  which  Hilda's 
face  instantly  assumed. 

"  Didst  thou  see  a  light,  son  of  Godwin,  by  the  altar 
of  Thor,  and  over  the  bautastein  of  the  mighty  dead? 
a  flame,  lambent  and  livid,  like  moonbeams  collected 
over  snow?  " 

"  So  seemed  to  me  the  light." 

"  No  human  hand  ever  kindled  that  flame,  which 
announces  the  presence  of  the  Dead,"  said  Hilda,  with 
a  tremulous  voice;  "though  seldom,  uncompelled  by 
the  seid  and  the  rune,  does  the  spectre  itself  warn  the 
eyes  of  the  living." 

"  What  shape,  or  what  shadow  of  shape,  does  that 
spectre  assume?  " 

"  It  rises  in  the  midst  of  the  flame,  pale  as  the  mist 
on  the  mountain,  and  vast  as  the  giants  of  old;  with 
the  saex,  and  the  spear,  and  the  shield,  of  the  sons  of 
Woden. — Thou  hast  seen  the  Scin-laeca,"  continued 
Hilda,  looking  full  on  the  face  of  the  Earl. 

"  If  thou  deceivest  me  not,"  began  Harold,  doubt- 
ing still. 

"  Deceive  thee!  not  to  save  the  crown  of  the  Saxon 
dare  I  mock  the  might  of  the  dead.  Knowest  thou 
not — or  hath  thy  vain  lore  stood  in  place  of  the  lore  of 
thy  fathers — that  where  a  hero  of  old  is  buried,  his 
treasures  lie  in  his  grave;  that  over  that  grave  is  at 
times  seen  at  night  the  flame  that  thou  sawest,  and  the 
dead  in  his  image  of  air?  Oft  seen  in  the  days  that  are 
gone,  when  the  dead  and  the  living  had  one  faith — 
were  one  race ;  now  never  marked,  but  for  portent,  and 
VOL.  I. — 10 


146  HAROLD 

prophecy,  and  doom: — glory  or  woe  to  the  eyes  that 
see!  On  yon  knoll,  JEsc  (the  first-born  of  Cerdic, 
that  Father-King  of  the  Saxons,)  has  his  grave  where 
the  mound  rises  green,  and  the  stone  gleams  wan  by 
the  altar  of  Thor.  He  smote  the  Britons  in  their  tem- 
ple, and  he  fell  smiting.  They  buried  him  in  his  arms, 
and  with  the  treasures  his  right  hand  had  won.  Fate 
hangs  on  the  house  of  Cerdic,  or  the  realm  of  the 
Saxon,  when  Woden  calls  the  Iseca  of  his  son  from  the 
grave." 

Hilda,  much  troubled,  bent  her  face  over  her  clasped 
hands,  and,  rocking  to  and  fro,  muttered  some  runes 
unintelligible  to  the  ear  of  her  listener.  Then  she 
turned  to  him,  commandingly,  and  said : 

"  Thy  dreams  now,  indeed,  are  oracles,  more  true 
than  living  Vala  could  charm  with  the  wand  and  the 
rune:  Unfold  them." 

Thus  adjured,  Harold  resumed: 

"  Methought,  then,  that  I  was  on  a  broad,  level 
plain,  in  the  noon  of  day;  all  was  clear  to  my  eye,  and 
glad  to  my  heart.  I  was  alone  and  went  on  my  way 
rejoicing.  Suddenly  the  earth  opened  under  my 
feet,  and  I  fell  deep,  fathom-deep; — deep,  as  if  to  that 
central  pit,  which  our  heathen  sires  called  Niffelheim 
— the  Home  of  Vapour — the  hell  of  the  dead  who  die 
without  glory.  Stunned  by  the  fall,  I  lay  long,  locked 
as  in  a  dream  in  the  midst  of  a  dream.  When  I  opened 
my  eyes,  behold,  I  was  girt  round  with  dead  men's 
bones;  and  the  bones  moved  round  me,  undulating, 
as  the  dry  leaves  that  wirble  round  in  the  winds  of  the 
winter.  And  from  midst  of  them  peered  a  trunkless 
skull,  and  on  the  skull  was  a  mitre,  and  from  the  yawn- 
ing jaws  a  voice  came  hissing,  as  a  serpent's  hiss. 
4  Harold,  the  scorner,  thou  art  ours!'  Then,  as  from 


HAROLD  147 

the  buzz  of  an  army,  came  voices  multitudinous, 
'Thou  art  ours!'  I  sought  to  rise,  and  behold  my 
limbs  were  bound,  and  the  gyves  were  fine  and  frail, 
as  the  web  of  the  gossamer,  and  they  weighed  on  me 
like  chains  of  iron.  And  I  felt  an  anguish  of  soul 
that  no  words  can  speak — an  anguish  both  of  horror 
and  shame;  and  my  manhood  seemed  to  ooze  from 
me,  and  I  was  weak  as  a  child  new  born.  Then 
suddenly  there  rushed  forth  a  freezing  wind,  as  from 
an  air  of  ice,  and  the  bones  from  their  whirl  stood 
still,  and  the  buzz  ceased,  and  the  mitred  skull  grinned 
on  me  still  and  voiceless;  and  serpents  darted  their 
arrowy  tongues  from  the  eyeless  sockets.  And,  lo, 
before  me  stood  (O  Hilda,  I  see  it  now!)  the  form  of 
the  spectre  that  had  risen  from  yonder  knoll.  With 
his  spear,  and  saex,  and  his  shield,  he  stood  before 
me;  and  his  face,  though  pale  as  that  of  one  long  dead, 
was  stern  as  the  face  of  a  warrior  in  the  van  of  armed 
men;  he  stretched  his  hand,  and  he  smote  his  saex  on 
his  shield,  and  the  clang  sounded  hollow;  the  gyves 
broke  at  the  clash — I  sprang  to  my  feet,  and  I  stood 
side  by  side  with  the  phantom,  dauntless.  Then,  sud- 
denly, the  mitre  on  the  skull  changed  to  a  helm;  and 
where  the  skull  had  grinned,  trunkless  and  harmless, 
stood  a  shape  like  War,  made  incarnate; — a  Thing 
above  giants,  with  its  crest  to  the  stars  and  its  form 
an  eclipse  between  the  sun  and  the  day.  The  earth 
changed  to  ocean,  and  the  ocean  was  blood,  and  the 
ocean  seemed  deep  as  the  seas  where  the  whales  sport 
in  the  North,  but  the  surge  rose  not  to  the  knee  of 
that  measureless  image.  And  the  ravens  came  round 
it  from  all  parts  of  the  heaven,  and  the  vultures  with 
the  dead  eyes  and  dull  scream.  And  all  the  bones, 
before  scattered  and  shapeless,  sprung  to  life  and  to 


148  HAROLD 

form,  some  monks  and  some  warriors;  and  there  was 
a  hoot,  and  a  hiss,  and  a  roar,  and  the  storm  of  arms. 
And  a  broad  pennon  rose  out  of  the  sea  of  blood,  and 
from  the  clouds  came  a  pale  hand,  and  it  wrote  on  the 
pennon,  '  Harold,  the  Accursed! '  Then  said  the  stern 
shape  by  my  side,  '  Harold,  fearest  thou  the  dead 
men's  bones?'  and  its  voice  was  as  a  trumpet  that 
gives  strength  to  the  craven,  and  I  answering,  '  Nid- 
dering,  indeed,  were  Harold,  to  fear  the  bones  of  the 
dead!' 

"  As  I  spoke,  as  if  hell  had  burst  loose,  came  a  gibber 
of  scorn,  and  all  vanished  at  once,  save  the  ocean  of 
blood.  Slowly  came  from  the  north,  over  the  sea,  a 
bird  like  a  raven,  save  that  it  was  blood-red,  like  the 
ocean;  and  there  came  from  the  south,  swimming 
towards  me,  a  lion.  And  I  looked  to  the  spectre; 
and  the  pride  of  war  had  gone  from  its  face,  which  was 
so  sad  that  methought  I  forgot  raven  and  lion,  and 
wept  to  see  it.  Then  the  spectre  took  me  in  its  vast 
arms,  and  its  breath  froze  my  veins,  and  it  kissed  my 
brow  and  my  lips,  and  said,  gently  and  fondly,  as  my 
mother  in  some  childish  sickness,  '  Harold,  my  best 
beloved,  mourn  not.  Thou  hast  all  which  the  sons 
of  Woden  dreamed  in  their  dreams  of  Valhalla!' 
Thus  saying,  the  form  receded  slowly,  slowly,  still 
gazing  on  me  with  its  sad  eyes.  I  stretched  forth  my 
hand  to  detain  it,  and  in  my  grasp  was  a  shadowy 
sceptre.  And,  lo!  round  me,  as  if  from  the  earth, 
sprang  up  thegns  and  chiefs,  in  their  armour;  and  a 
board  was  spread,  and  a  wassail  was  blithe  around 
me.  So  my  heart  felt  cheered  and  light,  and  in  my 
hand  was  still  the  sceptre.  And  we  feasted  long  and 
merrily;  but  over  the  feast  flapped  the  wings  of  the 
blood-red  raven,  and  over  the  blood-red  sea  beyond, 


HAROLD  149 

swam  the  lion,  near  and  near.  And  in  the  heavens 
there  were  two  stars,  one  pale  and  steadfast,  the  other 
rushing  and  luminous;  and  a  shadowy  hand  pointed 
from  the  cloud  to  the  pale  star,  and  a  voice  said,  '  Lo, 
Harold!  the  star  that  shone  on  thy  birth.'  And  an- 
other hand  pointed  to  the  luminous  star,  and  another 
voice  said,  '  Lo,  the  star  that  shone  on  the  birth  of 
the  victor.'  Then,  lo!  the  bright  star  grew  fiercer  and 
larger;  and,  rolling  on  with  a  hissing  sound,  as  when 
iron  is  dipped  into  water,  it  rushed  over  the  disc  of 
the  mournful  planet,  and  the  whole  heavens  seemed 
on  fire.  So  methought  the  dream  faded  away,  and  in 
fading,  I  heard  a  full  swell  of  music,  as  the  swell  of 
an  anthem  in  an  aisle;  a  music  like  that  which  but 
once  in  my  life  I  heard;  when  I  stood  on  the  train  of 
Edward,  in  the  halls  of  Winchester,  the  day  they 
crowned  him  king." 

Harold  ceased,  and  the  Vala  slowly  lifted  her  head 
from  her  bosom,  and  surveyed  him  in  profound  silence, 
and  with  a  gaze  that  seemed  vacant  and  meaningless. 

"  Why  dost  thou  look  on  me  thus,  and  why  art  thou 
so  silent?"  asked  the  Earl. 

"The  cloud  is  on  my  sight,  and  the  burthen  is  on 
my  soul,  and  I  cannot  read  thy  rede,"  murmured  the 
Vala.  "  But  morn,  the  ghost-chaser,  that  waketh  life, 
the  action,  charms  into  slumber  life,  the  thought.  As 
the  stars  pale  at  the  rising  of  the  sun,  so  fade  the  lights 
of  the  soul  when  the  buds  revive  in  the  dews,  and  the 
lark  sings  to  the  day.  In  thy  dream  lies  thy  future, 
as  the  wing  of  the  moth  in  the  web  of  the  changing 
worm;  but,  whether  for  weal  or  for  woe,  thou  shalt 
burst  through  thy  mesh,  and  spread  thy  plumes  in 
the  air.  Of  myself  I  know  nought.  Await  the  hour 
when  Skulda  shall  pass  into  the  soul  of  her  servant, 


ISO  HAROLD 

and  thy  fate  shall  rush  from  my  lips  as  the  rush  of  the 
waters  from  the  heart  of  the  cave." 

"  I  am  content  to  abide,"  said  Harold,  with  his 
wonted  smile,  so  calm  and  so  lofty;  "but  I  cannot 
promise  thee  that  I  shall  heed  thy  rede,  or  obey  thy 
warning,  when  my  reason  hath  awoke,  as  while  I 
speak  it  awakens,  from  the  fumes  of  the  fancy  and  the 
mists  of  the  night." 

The  Vala  sighed  heavily,  but  made  no  answer. 


CHAPTER   III 

Githa,  Earl  Godwin's  wife,  sate  in  her  chamber,  and 
her  heart  was  sad.  In  the  room  was  one  of  her  sons, 
the  one  dearer  to  her  than  all,  Wolnoth,  her  darling. 
For  the  rest  of  her  sons  were  stalwart  and  strong  of 
frame,  and  in  their  infancy  she  had  known  not  a  moth- 
er's fears.  But  Wolnoth  had  come  into  the  world 
before  his  time,  and  sharp  had  been  the  travail  of  the 
mother,  and  long  between  life  and  death  the  struggle 
of  the  newborn  babe.  And  his  cradle  had  been  rocked 
with  a  trembling  knee,  and  his  pillow  been  bathed  with 
hot  tears.  Frail  had  been  his  childhood — a  thing  that 
hung  on  her  care;  and  now,  as  the  boy  grew,  bloom- 
ing and  strong,  into  youth,  the  mother  felt  that  she 
had  given  life  twice  to  her  child.  Therefore  was  he 
more  dear  to  her  than  the  rest;  and,  therefore,  as  she 
gazed  upon  him  now,  fair  and  smiling,  and  hopeful, 
she  mourned  for  him  more  than  for  Sweyn,  the  out- 
cast and  criminal,  on  his  pilgrimage  of  woe,  to  the 
waters  of  Jordan,  and  the  tomb  of  our  Lord.  For 
Wolnoth,  selected  as  the  hostage  for  the  faith  of  his 
house,  was  to  be  sent  from  her  arms  to  the  Court  ot 


HAROLD  151 

William  the  Norman.  And  the  youth  smiled  and  was 
gay,  choosing  vestment  and  mantle,  and  ateghars  of 
gold,  that  he  might  be  flaunting  and  brave  in  the  halls 
of  knighthood  and  the  beauty, — the  school  of  the 
proudest  chivalry  of  the  Christian  world.  Too  young, 
and  too  thoughtless,  to  share  the  wise  hate  of  his 
elders  for  the  manners  and  forms  of  the  foreigners, 
their  gaiety  and  splendour,  as  his  boyhood  had  seen 
them,  relieving  the  gloom  of  the  cloister  court,  and 
contrasting  the  spleen  and  the  rudeness  of  the  Saxon 
temperament,  had  dazzled  his  fancy  and  half  Nor- 
manised  his  mind.  A  proud  and  happy  boy  was  he, 
to  go  as  hostage  for  the  faith,  and  representative  of 
the  rank,  of  his  mighty  kinsmen;  and  step  into  man- 
hood in  the  eyes  of  the  dames  of  Rouen. 

By  Wolnoth's  side  stood  his  young  sister,  Thyra,  a 
mere  infant;  and  her  innocent  sympathy  with  her 
brother's  pleasure  in  gaud  and  toy  saddened  Githa  yet 
more. 

"O  my  son!"  said  the  troubled  mother,  "why,  of 
all  my  children,  have  they  chosen  thee?  Harold  is 
wise  against  danger,  and  Tostig  is  fierce  against  foes, 
and  Gurth  is  too  loving  to  awake  hate  in  the  sternest, 
and  from  the  mirth  of  sunny  Leofwine  sorrow  glints 
aside,  as  the  shaft  from  the  sheen  of  a  shield.  But 
thou,  thou,  O  beloved! — cursed  be  the  king  that  chose 
thee,  and  cruel  was  the  father  that  forgot  the  light  of 
the  mother's  eyes!" 

"  Tut,  mother  the  dearest,"  said  Wolnoth,  pausing 
from  the  contemplation  of  a  silk  robe,  all  covered  with 
broidered  peacocks,  which  had  been  sent  him  as  a  gift 
from  his  sister  the  Queen,  and  wrought  with  her  own 
fair  hands;  for  a  notable  needle-woman,  despite  her 
sage  lere,  was  the  wife  of  the  Saint  King,  as  sorrow- 


552  HAROLD 

ful  women  mostly  are, — "Tut!  the  bird  must  leave 
the  nest  when  the  wings  are  fledged.  Harold  the 
eagle,  Tostig  the  kite,  Gurth  the  ring-dove,  and  Leof- 
wine  the  stare.  See,  my  wings  are  the  richest  of  all, 
mother,  and  bright  is  the  sun  in  which  thy  peacock 
shall  spread  his  pranked  plumes." 

Then,  observing  that  his  liveliness  provoked  no 
smile  from  his  mother,  he  approached  and  said  more 
seriously: 

"  Bethink  thee,  mother  mine.  No  other  choice  was 
left  to  king  or  to  father.  Harold,  and  Tostig,  and 
Leofwine,  have  their  lordships  and  offices.  Their 
posts  are  fixed,  and  they  stand  as  the  columns  of  our 
house.  And  Gurth  is  so  young,  and  so  Saxish  and 
so  the  shadow  of  Harold,  that  his  hate  to  the  Norman 
is  a  by-word  already  among  our  youths;  for  hate  is 
the  more  marked  in  a  temper  of  love,  as  the  blue  of 
this  border  seems  black  against  the  white  of  the  woof. 
But  /; — the  good  King  knows  that  I  shall  be  welcome, 
for  the  Norman  knights  love  Wolnoth,  and  I  have 
spent  hours  by  the  knees  of  Montgommeri  and  Grant- 
mesnil,  listening  to  the  feats  of  Rolfganger,  and  play- 
ing with  their  gold  chains  of  knighthood.  And  the 
stout  Count  himself  shall  knight  me,  and  I  shall  come 
back  with  the  spurs  of  gold  which  thy  ancestors,  the 
brave  Kings  of  Norway  and  Daneland,  wore  ere 
knighthood  was  known.  Come,  kiss  me,  my  mother, 
and  come  see  the  brave  falcons  Harold  has  sent  me: 
—true  Welch!" 

Githa  rested  her  face  on  her  son's  shoulder,  and  her 
tears  blinded  her.  The  door  opened  gently,  and  Har- 
old entered;  and  with  the  Earl,  a  pale  dark-haired  boy, 
Haco,  the  son  of  Sweyn. 

But  Githa,  absorbed  in  her  darling  Wolnoth,  scarce 


HAROLD  153 

saw  the  grandchild  reared  afar  from  her  knees,  and 
hurried  at  once  to  Harold.  In  his  presence  she  felt 
comfort  and  safety;  for  Wolnoth  leant  on  her  heart, 
and  her  heart  leant  on  Harold. 

"O  son,  son!"  she  cried,  "firmest  of  hand,  surest 
of  faith,  and  wisest  of  brain,  in  the  house  of  Godwin, 
tell  me  that  he  yonder,  he  thy  young  brother,  risks  no 
danger  in  the  halls  of  the  Normans!  " 

"  Not  more  than  in  these,  mother,"  answered  Har- 
old, soothing  her,  with  caressing  lip  and  gentle  tone. 
"  Fierce  and  ruthless,  men  say,  is  William  the  Duke 
against  foes  with  their  swords  in  their  hands,  but 
debonnair  and  mild  to  the  gentle,1  frank  host  and  kind 
lord.  And  these  Normans  have  a  code  of  their  own, 
more  grave  than  all  morals,  more  binding  than  even 
their  fanatic  religion.  Thou  knowest  it  well,  mother, 
for  it  comes  from  thy  race  of  the  North,  and  this  code 
of  honour,  they  call  it,  makes  Wolnoth's  head  as  sacred 
as  the  relics  of  a  saint  set  in  zimmes.  Ask  only,  my 
brother,  when  thou  comest  in  sight  of  the  Norman 
Duke,  ask  only  '  the  kiss  of  peace,'  and,  that  kiss  on 
thy  brow,  thou  wilt  sleep  more  safe  than  if  all  the  ban- 
ners of  England  waved  over  thy  couch."  a 

"  But  how  long  shall  the  exile  be?  "  asked  Githa, 
comforted.  Harold's  brow  fell. 

"  Mother,  not  even  to  cheer  thee  will  I  deceive.  The 

1  So  Robert  of  Gloucester  says  pithily  of  William,  "  Kyng 
Wylliam  was  to  mild  men  debonnere  ynou." — HEARNE,  v.  ii. 
p.  309. 

2  This  kiss  of  peace  was  held  singularly  sacred  by  the  Nor- 
mans, and  all  the  more  knightly  races  of  the  continent.     Even 
the   craftiest    dissimulator,    designing    fraud,    and    stratagem, 
and  murder  to  a  foe,  would  not.  to  gain  his  ends,  betray  the 
pledge  of  the  kiss  of  peace.     When  Henry  II.  consented  to 
meet  Becket  after   his  return  from   Rome,  and   promised   to 
remedy  all  of  which  his  prelate  complained,  he  struck  prophetic 
dismay  into  Becket's  heart  by  evading  the  kiss  of  peace. 


154  HAROLD 

time  of  the  hostageship  rests  with  the  King  and  the 
Duke.  As  long  as  the  one  affects  fear  from  the  race 
of  Godwin,  as  long  as  the  other  feigns  care  for  such 
priests  or  such  knights  as  were  not  banished  from  the 
realm,  being  not  courtiers,  but  scattered  wide  and  far 
in  convent  and  homestead,  so  long  will  Wolnoth  and 
Haco  be  guests  in  the  Norman  halls." 

Githa  wrung  her  hands. 

"  But  comfort,  my  mother;  Wolnoth  is  young,  his 
eye  is  keen,  and  his  spirit  prompt  and  quick.  He  will 
mark  these  Norman  captains,  he  will  learn  their 
strength  and  their  weakness,  their  manner  of  war,  and 
he  will  come  back,  not  as  Edward  the  King  came,  a 
lover  of  things  un-Saxon,  but  able  to  warn  and  to 
guide  us  against  the  plots  of  the  camp-court,  which 
threatens  more,  year  by  year,  the  peace  of  the  world. 
And  he  will  see  there  arts  we  may  worthily  borrow: 
not  the  cut  of  a  tunic,  and  the  fold  of  a  gonna,  but  the 
arts  of  men  who  found  states  and  build  nations.  Will- 
iam the  Duke  is  splendid  and  wise;  merchants  tell  us 
how  crafts  thrive  under  his  iron  hand,  and  war-men 
say  that  his  forts  are  constructed  with  skill  and  his 
battle-schemes  planned  as  the  mason  plans  key- 
stone and  arch,  with  weight  portioned  out  to  the  prop, 
and  the  force  of  the  hand  made  tenfold  by  the  science 
of  the  brain.  So  that  the  boy  will  return  to  us  a  man 
round  and  complete,  a  teacher  of  greybeards,  and  the 
sage  of  his  kin;  fit  for  earldom  and  rule,  fit  for  glory 
and  England.  Grieve  not,  daughter  of  the  Dane 
kings,  that  thy  son,  the  best  loved,  hath  nobler  school 
and  wider  field  than  his  brothers." 

This  appeal  touched  the  proud  heart  of  the  niece 
of  Canute  the  Great,  and  she  almost  forgot  the  grief 
of  her  love  in  the  hope  of  her  ambition. 


HAROLD  155 

She  dried  her  tears  and  smiled  upon  Wolnoth,  and 
already,  in  the  dreams  of  a  mother's  vanity,  saw  him 
great  as  Godwin  in  council,  and  prosperous  as  Harold 
in  the  field.  Nor,  half  Norman  as  he  was,  did  the 
young  man  seem  insensible  of  the  manly  and  elevated 
patriotism  of  his  brother's  hinted  lessons,  though  he 
felt  they  implied  reproof.  He  came  to  the  Earl,  whose 
arm  was  round  his  mother,  and  said  with  a  frank 
heartiness  not  usual  to  a  nature  somewhat  frivolous 
and  irresolute: 

"  Harold,  thy  tongue  could  kindle  stones  into  men, 
and  warm  those  men  into  Saxons.  Thy  Wolnoth  shall 
not  hang  his  head  with  shame  when  he  comes  back  to 
our  merrie  land  with  shaven  locks  and  spurs  of  gold. 
For  if  thou  doubtest  his  race  from  his  look,  thou  shalt 
put  thy  right  hand  on  his  heart,  and  feel  England  beat 
there  in  every  pulse." 

"  Brave  words,  and  well  spoken,"  cried  the  Earl,  and 
he  placed  his  hand  on  the  boy's  head  as  in  benison. 

Till  then,  Haco  had  stood  apart,  conversing  with 
the  infant  Thyra,  whom  his  dark,  mournful  face  awed 
and  yet  touched,  for  she  nestled  close  to  him,  and  put 
her  little  hand  in  his;  but  now,  inspired  no  less  than 
his  cousin  by  Harold's  noble  speech,  he  came  proudly 
forward  by  Wolnoth's  side,  and  said: 

"  I,  too,  am  English,  and  I  have  the  name  of  Eng- 
lishman to  redeem." 

Ere  Harold  could  reply,  Githa  exclaimed: 

"  Leave  there  thy  right  hand  on  my  child's  head, 
and  say,  simply:  '  By  my  troth  and  my  plight,  if  the 
Duke  detain  Wolnoth,  son  of  Githa,  against  just  plea, 
and  King's  assent  to  his  return,  I,  Harold,  will,  fail- 
ing letter  and  nuncius,  cross  the  seas,  to  restore  the 
child  to  the  mother.'  " 


156  HAROLD 

Harold  hesitated. 

A  sharp  cry  of  reproach  that  went  to  his  heart  broke 
from  Githa's  lips. 

"Ah!  cold  and  self-heeding,  wilt  thou  send  him  to 
bear  a  peril  from  which  thou  shrinkest  thyself?  " 

"  By  my  troth  and  my  plight,  then,"  said  the  Earl, 
'"'  if,  fair  time  elapsed,  peace  in  England,  without  plea 
of  justice,  and  against  my  king's  fiat,  Duke  William  of 
Normandy  detain  the  hostages; — thy  son  and  this  dear 
boy,  more  sacred  and  more  dear  to  me  for  his  father's 
woes, — I  will  cross  the  seas,  to  restore  the  child  to  the 
mother,  the  fatherless  to  his  fatherland.  So  help  me, 
all-seeing  One,  Amen  and  Amen ! " 


CHAPTER  IV 

We  have  seen,  in  an  earlier  part  of  this  record,  that 
Harold  possessed,  amongst  his  numerous  and  more 
stately  possessions,  a  house,  not  far  from  the  old  Ro- 
man dwelling-place  of  Hilda.  And  in  this  residence 
he  now  (save  when  with  the  King)  made  his  chief 
abode.  He  gave  as  the  reasons  for  his  selection,  the 
charm  it  took,  in  his  eyes,  from  that  signal  mark  of 
affection  which  his  ceorls  had  rendered  him,  in  pur- 
chasing the  house  and  tilling  the  ground  in  his  ab- 
sence; and  more  especially  the  convenience  of  its  vicin- 
ity to  the  new  palace  at  Westminster;  for,  by  Edward's 
special  desire,  while  the  other  brothers  repaired  to 
their  different  domains,  Harold  remained  near  his 
royal  person.  To  use  the  words  of  the  great  Norwe- 
gian chronicler,  "  Harold  was  always  with  the  Court 
itself,  and  nearest  to  the  King  in  all  service."  "  The 
King  loved  him  very  much,  and  kept  him  as  his  own 


HAROLD  157 

son,  for  he  had  no  children."1  This  attendance  on 
Edward  was  naturally  most  close  at  the  restoration  to 
power  of  the  Earl's  family.  For  Harold,  mild  and 
conciliating,  was,  like  Aired,  a  great  peacemaker,  and 
Edward  had  never  cause  to  complain  of  him,  as  he 
believed  he  had  of  the  rest  of  that  haughty  house. 
But  the  true  spell  which  made  dear  to  Harold  the  rude 
building  of  timber,  with  its  doors  open  all  day  to  his 
lithsmen,  when  with  a  light  heart  he  escaped  from 
the  halls  of  Westminster,  was  the  fair  face  of  Edith  his 
neighbour.  The  impression  which  this  young  girl  had 
made  upon  Harold  seemed  to  partake  of  the  strength 
of  a  fatality.  For  Harold  had  loved  her  before  the 
marvellous  beauty  of  her  womanhood  began;  and,  oc- 
cupied from  his  earliest  youth  in  grave  and  earnest 
affairs,  his  heart  had  never  been  frittered  away  on  the 
mean  and  frivolous  affections  of  the  idle.  Now,  in 
that  comparative  leisure  of  his  stormy  life,  he  was 
naturally  most  open  to  the  influence  of  a  charm  more 
potent  than  all  the  glamoury  of  Hilda. 

The  autumn  sun  shone  through  the  golden  glades 
of  the  forest-land,  when  Edith  sate  alone  on  the  knoll 
that  faced  forestland  and  road,  and  watched  afar. 

And  the  birds  sung  cheerily;  but  that  was  not  the 
sound  for  which  Edith  listened:  and  the  squirrel  darted 
from  tree  to  tree  on  the  sward  beyond;  but  not  to  see 
the  games  of  the  squirrel  sat  Edith  by  the  grave  of  the 
Teuton.  By-and-by,  came  the  cry  of  the  dogs,  and 
the  tall  gre-hound  2  of  Wales  emerged  from  the  bosky 
dells.  Then  Edith's  heart  heaved,  and  her  eyes  bright- 
ened. And  now,  with  his  hawk  on  his  wrist,  and  his 

1  SNORRO  STURLESON'S   Hcimskringla—  Laing's  Translation, 
P-  75-77- 

2  The  gre-hound  was   so  called   from  hunting  the  gre  or 
badger. 


158  HAROLD 

spear  *  in  his  hand,  came,  through  the  yellowing 
boughs,  Harold  the  Earl. 

And  well  may  ye  ween,  that  his  heart  beat  as  loud 
and  his  eye  shone  as  bright  as  Edith's,  when  he  saw 
who  had  watched  for  his  footsteps  on  the  sepulchral 
knoll;  Love,  forgetful  of  the  presence  of  Death; — so 
has  it  ever  been,  so  ever  shall  it  be!  He  hastened  his 
stride,  and  bounded  up  the  gentle  hillock,  and  his 
dogs,  with  a  joyous  bark,  came  round  the  knees  of 
Edith.  Then  Harold  shook  the  bird  from  his  wrist, 
and  it  fell,  with  its  light  wing,  on  the  altar-stone  of 
Thor. 

"  Thou  art  late,  but  thou  art  welcome,  Harold  my 
kinsman,"  said  Edith,  simply,  as  she  bent  her  face 
over  the  hounds,  whose  gaunt  heads  she  caressed. 

"  Call  me  not  kinsman,"  said  Harold,  shrinking,  and 
with  a  dark  cloud"  on  his  broad  brow. 

"And  why,  Harold?" 

"Oh,  Edith,  why?"  murmured  Harold;  and  his 
thought  added,  "  she  knows  not,  poor  child,  that  in 
that  mockery  of  kinship  the  Church  sets  its  ban  on 
our  bridals." 

He  turned,  and  chid  his  dogs  fiercely  as  they  gam- 
bolled in  rough  glee  round  their  fair  friend. 

The  hounds  crouched  at  the  feet  of  Edith;  and 
Edith  looked  in  mild  wonder  at  the  troubled  face  of 
the  Earl. 

"  Thine  eyes  rebuke  me,  Edith,  more  than  my  words 
the  hounds ! "  said  Harold,  gently.  "  But  there  is 
quick  blood  in  my  veins;  and  the  mind  must  be  calm 
when  it  would  control  the  humour.  Calm  was  my 

1  The  spear  and  the  hawk  were  as  the  badges  of  Saxon 
nobility ;  and  a  thegn  was  seldom  seen  abroad  without  the 
one  on  his  left  wrist,  the  other  in  his  right  hand. 


HAROLD  159 

mind,  sweet  Edith,  in  the  old  time,  when  thou  wert 
an  infant  on  my  knee,  and  wreathing,  with  these  rude 
hands,  flower-chains  for  thy  neck  like  the  swan's 
down,  I  said,  '  The  flowers  fade,  but  the  chain  lasts 
when  love  weaves  it."1 

Edith  again  bent  her  face  over  the  crouching 
hounds.  Harold  gazed  on  her  with  mournful  fond- 
ness; and  the  bird  still  sung  and  the  squirrel  swung 
himself  again  from  bough  to  bough.  Edith  spoke 
first: 

"  My  godmother,  thy  sister,  hath  sent  for  me,  Har- 
old, and  I  am  to  go  to  the  Court  to-morrow.  Shalt 
thou  be  there?" 

"  Surely,"  said  Harold,  in  an  anxious  voice,  "  surely, 
I  will  be  there!  So  my  sister  hath  sent  for  thee:  wit- 
test  thou  wherefore?  " 

Edith  grew  very  pale,  and  her  tone  trembled  as  she 
answered: 

41  Well-a-day,  yes." 

"  It  is  as  I  feared,  then!  "  exclaimed  Harold,  in  great 
agitation;  "and  my  sister,  whom  these  monks  have 
demented,  leagues  herself  with  the  King  against  the 
law  of  the  wide  welkin  and  the  grand  religion  of  the 
human  heart.  Oh!  "  continued  the  Earl,  kindling  into 
an  enthusiasm,  rare  to  his  even  moods,  but  wrung  as 
much  from  his  broad  sense  as  from  his  strong  affec- 
tion, "  when  I  compare  the  Saxon  of  our  land  and 
day,  all  enervated  and  decrepit  by  priestly  supersti- 
tion, with  his  forefathers  in  the  first  Christian  era, 
yielding  to  the  religion  they  adopted  in  its  simple 
truths,  but  not  to  that  rot  of  social  happiness  and  free 
manhood  which  this  cold  and  lifeless  monarchism — 
making  virtue  the  absence  of  human  ties — spreads 
around — which  the  great  Bede,1  though  himself  a 
1  BED.  Epist.  ad  Egbert. 


160  HAROLD 

monk,  vainly  but  bitterly  denounced; — yea,  verily, 
when  I  see  the  Saxon  already  the  theowe  of  the  priest, 
I  shudder  to  ask  how  long  he  will  be  folk-free  of  the 
tyrant." 

He  paused,  breathed  hard,  and  seizing,  almost 
sternly,  the  girl's  trembling  arm,  he  resumed  between 
his  set  teeth:  "  So  they  would  have  thee  be  a  nun? — 
Thou  wilt  not, — thou  durst  not, — thy  heart  would  per- 
jure thy  vows!  " 

"Ah,  Harold!"  answered  Edith,  moved  out  of  all 
bashfulness  by  his  emotion  and  her  own  terror  of  the 
convent,  and  answering,  if  with  the  love  of  a  woman, 
still  with  all  the  unconsciousness  of  a  child:  "  Better, 
oh  better  the  grate  of  the  body  than  that  of  the  heart! 
— In  the  grave  I  could  still  live  for  those  I  love;  be- 
hind the  Grate,  love  itself  must  be  dead.  Yes,  thou 
pitiest  me,  Harold;  thy  sister,  the  Queen,  is  gentle 
and  kind;  I  will  fling  myself  at  her  feet,  and  say: 
'  Youth  is  fond,  and  the  world  is  fair:  let  me  live  my 
youth,  and  bless  God  in  the  world  that  he  saw  was 
good!'" 

"  My  own,  own  dear  Edith !  "  exclaimed  Harold, 
overjoyed.  "Say  this.  Be  firm:  they  cannot  and 
they  dare  not  force  thee!  The  law  cannot  wrench 
thee  against  thy  will  from  the  ward  of  thy  guardian 
Hilda;  and,  where  the  law  is,  there  Harold  at  least  is 
strong, — and  there  at  least  our  kinship,  if  my  bane,  is 
thy  blessing." 

"  Why,  Harold,  sayest  thou  that  our  kinship  is  thy 
bane?  It  is  so  sweet  to  me  to  whisper  to  myself, 
'  Harold  is  of  thy  kith,  though  distant;  and  it  is  nat- 
ural to  thee  to  have  pride  in  his  fame,  and  joy  in  his 
presence ! '  Why  is  that  sweetness  to  me,  to  thee  so 
bitter?  " 


"  Harold  dares  not  say  to  the  maid  of  his  love,  '  Give  me 
thy  right  hand,  and  be  my  bride.' " 


HAROLD  161 

"  Because,"  answered  Harold,  dropping  the  hand 
he  had  clasped,  and  folding  his  arms  in  deep  dejection, 
"  because  but  for  that  I  should  say:  '  Edith,  I  love  thee 
more  than  a  brother:  Edith,  be  Harold's  wife! '  And 
were  I  to  say  it,  and  were  we  to  wed,  all  the  priests 
of  the  Saxons  would  lift  up  their  hands  in  horror,  and 
curse  our  nuptials,  and  I  should  be  the  bann'd  of  that 
spectre  the  Church;  and  my  house  would  shake  to  its 
foundations;  and  my  father,  and  my  brothers,  and  the 
thegns  and  the  proceres,  and  the  abbots  and  prelates, 
whose  aid  makes  our  force,  would  gather  round  me 
with  threats  and  with  prayers,  that  I  might  put  thee 
aside.  And  mighty  as  I  am  now,  so  mighty  once  was 
Sweyn  my  brother;  and  outlaw  as  Sweyn  is  now,  might 
Harold  be;  and  outlaw  if  Harold  were,  what  breast  so 
broad  as  his  could  fill  up  the  gap  left  in  the  defence 
of  England?  And  the  passions  that  I  curb,  as  a  rider 
his  steed,  might  break  their  rein;  and,  strong  in  jus- 
tice, and  child  of  Nature,  I  might  come,  with  banner 
and  mail,  against  Church,  and  House,  and  Father- 
land; and  the  blood  of  my  countrymen  might  be 
poured  like  water:  and,  therefore,  slave  to  the  lying 
thraldom  he  despises,  Harold  dares  not  say  to  the 
maid  of  his  love,  '  Give  me  thy  right  hand,  and  be  my 
bride!'" 

Edith  had  listened  in  bewilderment  and  despair,  her 
eyes  fixed  on  his,  and  her  face  locked  and  rigid,  as  if 
turned  to  stone.  But  when  he  had  ceased,  and,  mov- 
ing some  steps  away,  turned  aside  his  manly  counte- 
nance, that  Edith  might  not  perceive  its  anguish,  the 
noble  and  sublime  spirit  of  that  sex  which  ever,  when 
lowliest,  most  comprehenvls  the  lofty,  rose  superior 
both  to  love  and  to  grief;  and  rising,  she  advanced, 
VOL.  I.— ii 


162  HAROLD 

and  placing  her  slight  hand  on  his  stalwart  shoulder 
she  said,  half  in  pity,  half  in  reverence: 

"  Never  before,  O  Harold,  did  I  feel  so  proud  of 
thee:  for  Edith  could  not  love  thee  as  she  doth,  and 
will  till  the  grave  clasp  her,  if  thou  didst  not  love 
England  more  than  Edith.  Harold,  till  this  hour  I 
was  a  child,  and  I  knew  not  my  own  heart :  I  look  now 
into  that  heart,  and  I  see  that  I  am  a  woman.  Harold, 
of  the  cloister  I  have  now  no  fear:  and  all  life  does  not 
shrink — no,  it  enlarges,  and  it  soars  into  one  desire 
— to  be  worthy  to  pray  for  thee !  " 

"Maid,  maid!"  exclaimed  Harold,  abruptly,  and 
pale  as  the  dead,  "  do  not  say  thou  hast  no  fear  of  the 
cloister.  I  adjure,  I  command  thee,  build  not  up  be- 
tween us  that  dismal  everlasting  wall.  While  thou 
art  free  Hope  yet  survives — a  phantom,  haply  but 
Hope  still." 

"As  thou  wilt  I  will,"  said  Edith,  humbly:  "order 
my  fate  so  as  pleases  thee  the  best." 

Then,  not  daring  to  trust  herself  longer,  for  she 
felt  the  tears  rushing  to  her  eyes,  she  turned  away 
hastily,  and  left  him  alone  beside  the  altar-stone  and 
the  tomb. 


CHAPTER   V 

The  next  day,  as  Harold  was  entering  the  palace 
of  Westminster,  with  intent  to  seek  the  King's  lady, 
his  father  met  him  in  one  of  the  corridors,  and,  tak- 
ing him  gravely  by  the  hand,  said: 

"  My  son,  I  have  much  on  my  mind  regarding  thee 
and  our  House;  come  witn  me." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Earl,  "  by  your  leave  let  it  be  later 


HAROLD  163 

For  I  have  it  on  hand  to  see  my  sister,  ere  confessor, 
or  monk,  or  schoolman,  claim  her  hours!" 

"Not  so,  Harold,"  said  the  Earl,  briefly.  "My 
daughter  is  now  in  her  oratory,  and  we  shall  have 
time  enow  to  treat  of  things  mundane  ere  she  is  free 
to  receive  thee,  and  to  preach  to  thee  of  things  ghost- 
ly, the  last  miracle  at  St.  Alban's,  or  the  last  dream 
of  the  King,  who  would  be  a  great  man  and  a  stirring, 
if  as  restless  when  awake  as  he  is  in  his  sleep.  Come." 

Harold,  in  that  filial  obedience  which  belonged,  as 
of  course,  to  his  antique  cast  of  character,  made  no 
farther  effort  to  escape,  but  with  a  sigh  followed 
Godwin  into  one  of  the  contiguous  chambers. 

"  Harold,"  then  said  Earl  Godwin,  after  closing  the 
door  carefully,  "  thou  must  not  let  the  King  keep  thee 
longer  in  dalliance  and  idleness:  thine  earldom  needs 
thee  without  delay.  Thou  knowest  that  these  East 
Angles,  as  we  Saxons  still  call  them,  are  in  truth 
mostly  Danes  and  Norsemen;  people  jealous  and 
fierce,  and  free,  and  more  akin  to  the  Normans  than 
to  the  Saxons.  My  whole  power  in  England  hath 
been  founded,  not  less  on  my  common  birth  with  the 
freefolk  of  Wessex — Saxons  like  myself,  and  there- 
fore easy  for  me,  a  Saxon,  to  conciliate  and  control 
— than  on  the  hold  I  have  ever  sought  to  establish, 
whether  by  arms  or  by  arts,  over  the  Danes  in  the 
realm.  And  I  tell  and  I  warn  thee,  Harold,  as  the  natu- 
ral heir  of  my  greatness,  that  he  who  cannot  command 
the  stout  hearts  of  the  Anglo-Danes,  will  never  main- 
tain the  race  of  Godwin  in  the  post  they  have  won  in 
the  vanguard  of  Saxon  England." 

"This  I  wot  well,  my  father,"  answered  Harold; 
"  and  I  see  with  joy,  that  while  those  descendants  of 
heroes  and  freemen  are  blended  indissolubly  with  the 


164  HAROLD 

meeker  Saxon,  their  freer  laws  and  hardier  manners 
are  gradually  supplanting,  or  rather  regenerating,  our 
own." 

Godwin  smiled  approvingly  on  his  son,  and  then 
his  brow  becoming  serious,  and  the  dark  pupil  of  his 
blue  eye  dilating,  he  resumed: 

"This  is  well,  my  son;  and  hast  thou  thought  also, 
that  while  thou  art  loitering  in  these  galleries,  amidst 
the  ghosts  of  men  in  monk  cowls,  Siward  is  shadow- 
ing our  House  with  his  glory,  and  all  north  the  Hum- 
ber  rings  with  his  name?  Hast  thou  thought  that  all 
Mercia  is  in  the  hands  of  Leofric  our  rival,  and  that 
Algar  his  son,  who  ruled  Wessex  in  my  absence,  left 
there  a  name  so  beloved,  that  had  I  stayed  a  year 
longer,  the  cry  had  been  '  Algar,'  not  '  Godwin  '  ? — for 
so  is  the  multitude  ever!  Now  aid  me,  Harold,  for 
my  soul  is  troubled,  and  I  cannot  work  alone;  and 
though  I  say  naught  to  others,  my  heart  received  a 
death-blow  when  tears  fell  from  its  blood-springs  on 
the  brow  of  Sweyn,  my  first-born."  The  old  man 
paused,  and  his  lip  quivered. 

"  Thou,  thou  alone,  Harold,  noble  boy,  thou  alone 
didst  stand  by  his  side  in  the  hall;  alone,  alone,  and  I 
blessed  thee  in  that  hour  over  all  the  rest  of  my  sons. 
Well,  well!  now  to  earth  again.  Aid  me,  Harold.  I 
open  to  thee  my  web:  complete  the  woof  when  this 
hand  is  cold.  The  new  tree  that  stands  alone  in  the 
plain  is  soon  nipped  by  the  winter;  fenced  round  with 
the  forest,  its  youth  takes  shelter  from  its  fellows.1 
So  is  it  with  a  house  newly  founded;  it  must  win 
strength  from  the  allies  that  it  sets  round  its  slender 
stem.  What  had  been  Godwin,  son  of  Wolnoth,  had 
he  not  married  into  the  kingly  house  of  great  Canute? 
-  TEGNER'S  Frithiof. 


HAROLD  165 

It  is  this  that  gives  my  sons  now  the  right  to  the  loyal 
love  of  the  Danes.  The  throne  passed  from  Canute 
and  his  race,  and  the  Saxons  again  had  their  hour; 
and  I  gave,  as  Jephtha  gave  his  daughter,  my  bloom- 
ing Edith  to  the  cold  bed  of  the  Saxon  king.  Had 
sons  sprung  from  that  union,  the  grandson  of  God- 
win, royal  alike  from  Saxon  and  Dane,  would  reign 
on  the  throne  of  the  isle.  Fate  ordered  otherwise, 
and  the  spider  must  weave  web  anew.  Thy  brother, 
Tostig,  has  added  more  splendour  than  solid  strength 
of  our  line,  in  his  marriage  with  the  daughter  of 
Baldwin  the  Count.  The  foreigner  helps  us  little  in 
England.  Thou,  O  Harold,  must  bring  new  props 
to  the  House.  I  would  rather  see  thee  wed  to  the 
child  of  one  of  our  great  rivals  than  to  the  daughter 
of  kaisar,  or  outland  king.  Siward  hath  no  daughter 
undisposed  of.  Algar,  son  of  Leofric,  hath  a  daughter 
fair  as  the  fairest ;  make  her  thy  bride  that  Algar  may 
cease  to  be  a  foe.  This  alliance  will  render  Mercia, 
in  truth,  subject  to  our  principalities,  since  the  stronger 
must  quell  the  weaker.  It  doth  more.  Algar  him- 
self has  married  into  the  royalty  of  Wales.1  Thou  wilt 
win  all  those  fierce  tribes  to  thy  side.  Their  forces 
will  gain  thee  the  marches,  now  held  so  feebly  under 
Rolf  the  Norman,  and  in  case  of  brief  reverse,  or  sharp 
danger,  their  mountains  will  give  refuge  from  all  foes. 
This  day,  greeting  Algar,  he  told  me  he  meditated 
bestowing  his  daughter  on  Gryffyth,  the  rebel  under- 
King  of  North  Wales.  Therefore,"  continued  the 
old  Earl,  with  a  smile,  "  thou  must  speak  in  time,  and 

1  Some  of  the  chroniclers  say  that  he  married  the  daughter 
of  Gryffyth,  the  king  of  North  Wales,  but  Gryffyth  certainly 
married  Algar's  daughter,  and  that  double  alliance  could  not 
have  been  permitted.  It  was  probably,  therefore,  some  more 
distant  kinswoman  of  Gryffyth's  that  was  united  to  Algar. 


1 66  HAROLD 

win  and  woo  in  the  same  breath.  No  hard  task,  me- 
thinks,  for  Harold  of  the  golden  tongue." 

"  Sir  and  father,"  replied  the  young  Earl,  whom  the 
long  speech  addressed  to  him  had  prepared  for  its 
close,  and  whose  habitual  self-control  saved  him  from 
disclosing  his  emotion,  "  I  thank  you  duteously,  for 
your  care  for  my  future,  and  hope  to  profit  by  your 
wisdom.  I  will  ask  the  King's  leave  to  go  to  my 
East  Anglians,  and  hold  there  a  folkmuth,  administer 
justice,  redress  grievances,  and  make  thegn  and  ceorl 
content  with  Harold,  their  Earl.  But  vain  is  peace 
in  the  realm,  if  there  is  strife  in  the  house.  And  Al- 
dyth,  the  daughter  of  Algar,  cannot  be  house-wife  to 
me." 

"  Why?  "  asked  the  old  Earl,  calmly,  and  surveying 
his  son's  face  with  those  eyes  so  clear  yet  so  unfathom- 
able. 

"  Because,  though  I  grant  her  fair,  she  pleases  not 
my  fancy,  nor  would  give  warmth  to  my  hearth.  Be- 
cause, as  thou  knowest  well,  Algar  and  I  have  ever 
been  opposed,  both  in  camp  and  in  council;  and  I  am 
not  the  man  who  can  sell  my  love,  though  I  may  stifle 
my  anger.  Earl  Harold  needs  no  bride  to  bring 
spearmen  to  his  back  at  his  need;  and  his  lordships 
he  will  guard  with  the  shield  of  a  man,  not  the  spindle 
of  a  woman." 

"  Said  in  spite  and  in  error,"  replied  the  old  Earl, 
coolly.  "  Small  pain  had  it  given  thee  to  forgive  Algar 
old  quarrels,  and  clasp  his  hand  as  a  father-in-law — if 
thou  hadst  had  for  his  daughter  what  the  great  are 
forbidden  to  regard  save  as  a  folly." 

"  Is  love  a  folly,  my  father?  " 

"  Surely,  yes,"  said  the  Earl,  with  some  sadness — 
"  surely,  yes,  for  those  who  know  that  life  is  made  up 


HAROLD  16; 

of  business  and  care,  spun  out  in  long  3  cars,  nor 
counted  by  the  joys  of  an  hour.  Surely,  yes;  thinkest 
thou  that  I  loved  my  first  wife,  the  proud  sister  of 
Canute,  or  that  Edith,  thy  sister,  loved  Edward,  when 
he  placed  the  crown  on  her  head?" 

"  My  father,  in  Edith,  my  sister,  our  House  has 
sacrificed  enow  to  selfish  power." 

"  I  grant  it,  to  selfish  power,"  answered  the  eloquent 
old  man,  "  but  not  enow  for  England's  safety.  Look 
to  it,  Harold;  thy  years,  and  thy  fame,  and  thy  state, 
place  thee  free  from  my  control  as  a  father,  but  not 
till  thou  steepest  in  thy  cerements  art  thou  free  from 
that  father — thy  land!  Ponder  it  in  thine  own  wise 
mind — wiser  already  than  that  which  speaks  to  it 
under  the  hood  of  grey  hairs.  Ponder  it,  and  ask  thy- 
self if  thy  power,  when  I  am  dead,  is  not  necessary 
to  the  weal  of  England?  and  if  aught  that  thy  schemes 
can  suggest  would  so  strengthen  that  power,  as  to 
find  in  the  heart  of  the  kingdom  a  host  of  friends  like 
the  Mercians; — or  if  there  could  be  a  trouble  and  a 
bar  to  thy  greatness,  a  wall  in  thy  path,  or  a  thorn  in 
thy  side,  like  the  hate  or  the  jealousy  of  Algar,  the 
son  of  Leofric?  " 

Thus  addressed,  Harold's  face,  before  serene  and 
calm,  grew  overcast;  and  he  felt  the  force  of  his  fa- 
ther's words  when  appealing  to  his  reason — not  to  his 
affections.  The  old  man  saw  the  advantage  he  had 
gained,  and  prudently  forbore  to  press  it.  Rising,  he 
drew  round  him  his  sweeping  gonna  lined  with  furs, 
and  only  when  he  reached  the  door,  he  added: 

"  The  old  see  afar;  they  stand  on  the  height  of  ex- 
perience, as  a  warder  on  the  crown  of  a  tower;  and  I 
tell  thee,  Harold,  that  if  thou  let  slip  this  golden  occa- 
sion, years  hence — long  and  many — thou  wilt  rue  the 


168  HAROLD 

loss  of  the  hour.  And  that,  unless  Mercia,  as  the 
centre  of  the  kingdom,  be  reconciled  to  thy  power, 
thou  wilt  stand  high  indeed — but  on  the  shelf  of  a 
precipice.  And  if,  as  I  suspect,  thou  lovest  some 
other  who  now  clouds  thy  perception,  and  will  then 
check  thy  ambition,  thou  wilt  break  her  heart  with  thy 
desertion,  or  gnaw  thine  own  with  regret.  For  love 
dies  in  possession — ambition  has  no  fruition,  and  so 
lives  forever." 

"  That  ambition  is  not  mine,  my  father,"  exclaimed 
Harold,  earnestly;  "I  have  not  thy  love  of  power, 
glorious  in  thee,  even  in  its  extremes.  I  have  not 
thy " 

"  Seventy  years}  "  interrupted  the  old  man,  conclud- 
ing the  sentence.  "  At  seventy  all  men  who  have  been 
great  will  speak  as  I  do;  yet  all  will  have  known  love. 
Thou  not  ambitious,  Harold?  Thou  knowest  not  thy- 
self, nor  knowest  thou  yet  what  ambition  is.  That 
which  I  see  far  before  me  as  thy  natural  prize,  I  dare 
not,  or  I  will  not  say.  When  time  sets  that  prize 
within  reach  of  thy  spear's  point,  say  then,  '  I  am  not 
ambitious!'  Ponder  and  decide." 

And  Harold  pondered  long,  and  decided  not  as  God- 
win could  have  wished.  For  he  had  not  the  seventy 
years  of  his  father,  and  the  prize  lay  yet  in  the  womb 
of  the  mountains;  though  the  dwarf  and  the  gnome 
were  already  fashioning  the  ore  to  the  shape  of  a 
crown. 


HAROLD  169 


CHAPTER  VI 

While  Harold  mused  over  his  father's  words,  Edith, 
seated  on  a  low  stool  beside  the  Lady  of  England, 
listened  with  earnest  but  mournful  reverence  to  her 
royal  namesake. 

The  Queen's  l  closet  opened  like  the  King's  on  one 
hand  to  an  oratory,  on  the  other  to  a  spacious  ante- 
room; the  lower  part  of  the  walls  was  covered  with 
arras,  leaving  space  for  a  niche  that  contained  an 
image  of  the  Virgin.  Near  the  doorway  to  the  ora- 
tory, was  the  stoupe  or  aspersorium  for  holy-water; 
and  in  various  cysts  and  crypts,  in  either  room,  were 
caskets  containing  the  relics  of  saints.  The  purple 
light  from  the  stained  glass  of  a  high  narrow  window, 
shaped  in  the  Saxon  arch,  streamed  rich  and  full  over 
the  Queen's  bended  head  like  a  glory,  and  tinged  her 
pale  cheek,  as  with  a  maiden  blush;  and  she  might 
have  furnished  a  sweet  model  for  early  artist,  in  his 
dreams  of  St.  Mary  the  Mother,  not  when,  young 
and  blest,  she  held  the  divine  infant  in  her  arms,  but 
when  sorrow  had  reached  even  the  immaculate  bosom 
and  the  stone  had  been  rolled  over  the  Holy  Sepul- 
chre. For  beautiful  the  face  still  was,  and  mild  be- 
yond all  words;  but,  beyond  all  words  also,  sad  in  its 
tender  resignation. 

And  thus  said  the  Queen  to  her  godchild: 

"  Why  dost  thou  hesitate  and  turn  away?  Think- 
est  thou,  poor  child,  in  thine  ignorance  of  life,  that  the 
world  ever  can  give  thee  a  bliss  greater  than  the  calm 

1  The  title  of  queen  is  employed  in  these  pages,  as  one  which 
our  historians  have  unhesitatingly  given  to  the  consorts  of  our 
Saxon  kings;  but  the  usual  and  correct  designation  of  Ed- 
ward's royal  wife,  in  her  own  time,  would  be,  Edith  the  Lady. 


170  HAROLD 

of  the  cloister?  Pause,  and  ask  thyself,  young  as 
thou  art,  if  all  the  true  happiness  thou  hast  known,  is 
not  bounded  to  hope.  As  long  as  thou  hopest,  thou 
art  happy." 

Edith  sighed  deeply,  and  moved  her  young  head  in 
involuntary  acquiescence. 

"  And  what  is  life  to  the  nun,  but  hope.  In  that 
hope,  she  knows  not  the  present,  she  lives  in  the  fut- 
ure; she  hears  ever  singing  the  chorus  of  the  angels, 
as  St.  Dunstan  heard  them  sing  at  the  birth  of  Edgar.1 
That  hope  unfolds  to  her  the  heiligthum  of  the  future. 
On  earth  her  body,  in  heaven  her  soul ! " 

"  And  her  heart,  O  Lady  of  England?  "  cried  Edith, 
with  a  sharp  pang. 

The  Queen  paused  a  moment,  and  laid  her  pale 
hand  kindly  on  Edith's  bosom. 

"  Not  beating,  child,  as  thine  does  now,  with  vain 
thoughts,  and  worldly  desires ;  but  calm,  calm  as  mine. 
It  is  in  our  power,"  resumed  the  Queen,  after  a  sec- 
ond pause,  "  it  is  in  our  power  to  make  the  life  within 
us  all  soul;  so  that  the  heart  is  not,  or  is  felt  not;  so 
that  grief  and  joy  have  no  power  over  us;  so  that  we 
look  tranquil  on  the  stormy  earth,  as  yon  image  of 
the  Virgin,  whom  we  make  our  example,  looks  from 
the  silent  niche.  Listen,  my  godchild  and  darling. 

"  I  have  known  human  state,  and  human  debase- 
ment. In  these  halls  I  woke  Lady  of  England,  and, 
ere  sunset,  my  lord  banished  me,  without  one  mark 
of  honour,  without  one  word  of  comfort,  to  the  con- 
vent of  Wherwell; — my  father,  my  mother,  my  kin, 
all  in  exile;  and  my  tears  falling  fast  for  them,  but 
not  on  a  husband's  bosom." 

"  Ah  then,  noble  Edith,"  said  the  girl,  colouring 
1  ETHEL.  De  Gen.  Reg.  Ang. 


HAROLD  171 

with  anger  at  the  remembered  wrong  for  her  Queen, 
"  ah  then,  surely,  at  least,  thy  heart  made  itself  heard." 

"  Heard,  yea  verily,"  said  the  Queen,  looking  up, 
and  pressing  her  hands;  "  heard,  but  the  soul  rebuked 
it.  And  the  soul  said,  '  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn ; ' 
and  I  rejoiced  at  the  new  trial  which  brought  me 
nearer  to  Him  who  chastens  those  He  loves." 

"  But  thy  banished  kin — the  valiant,  the  wise;  they 
who  placed  thy  lord  on  the  throne?  " 

"  Was  it  no  comfort,"  answered  the  Queen  simply, 
"  to  think  that  in  the  House  of  God  my  prayers  for 
them  would  be  more  accepted  than  in  the  halls  of 
kings?  Yes,  my  child,  I  have  known  the  world's  hon- 
our, and  the  world's  disgrace,  and  I  have  schooled 
my  heart  to  be  calm  in  both." 

"  Ah,  thou  art  above  human  strength,  Queen  and 
Saint,"  exclaimed  Edith ;  "  and  I  have  heard  it  said  of 
thee,  that  as  thou  art  now,  thou  wert  from  thine  earli- 
est years;1  ever  the  sweet,  the  calm,  the  holy — ever 
less  on  earth  than  in  heaven." 

Something  there  was  in  the  Queen's  eyes,  as  she 
raised  them  towards  Edith  at  this  burst  of  enthusiasm, 
that  gave  for  a  moment,  to  a  face  otherwise  so  dis- 
similar, the  likeness  to  her  father;  something,  in  that 
large  pupil,  of  the  impenetrable  unrevealing  depth  of 
a  nature  close  and  secret  in  self-control.  And  a  more 
acute  observer  than  Edith  might  long  have  been  per- 
plexed and  haunted  with  that  look,  wondering  if,  in- 
deed, under  the  divine  and  spiritual  composure,  lurked 
the  mystery  of  human  passion. 

"  My  child,"  said  the  Queen,  with  the  faintest  smile 
upon  her  lips,  and  drawing  Edith  towards  her,  "  there 
are  moments  when  all  that  breathe  the  breath  of  life 
1  AILRED,  De  Vit.  Edward  Confess. 


i;2  HAROLD 

feel,  or  have  felt,  alike.  In  my  vain  youth  I  read,  I 
mused,  I  pondered,  but  over  worldly  lore.  And  what 
men  called  the  sanctity  of  virtue,  was  perhaps  but  the 
silence  of  thought.  Now  I  have  put  aside  those  early 
and  childish  dreams  and  shadows,  remembering  them 
not,  save  (here  the  smile  grew  more  pronounced)  to 
puzzle  some  poor  schoolboy  with  the  knots  and  rid- 
dles of  the  sharp  grammarian.1  But  not  to  speak  of 
myself  have  I  sent  for  thee.  Edith,  again  and  again, 
solemnly  and  sincerely,  I  pray  thee  to  obey  the  wish 
of  my  lord  the  King.  And  now,  while  yet  in  all  the 
bloom  of  thought,  as  of  youth,  while  thou  hast  no 
memory  save  the  child's,  enter  on  the  Realm  of 
Peace." 

"  I  cannot,  I  dare  not,  I  cannot — ah,  ask  me  not," 
said  poor  Edith,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Those  hands  the  Queen  gently  withdrew;  and  look- 
ing steadfastly  in  the  changeful  and  half-averted  face, 
she  said  mournfully,  "  Is  it  so,  my  godchild?  and  is 
thy  heart  set  on  the  hopes  of  earth — thy  dreams  on 
the  love  of  man?" 

"  Nay,"  answered  Edith,  equivocating;  "  but  I  have 
promised  not  to  take  the  veil." 

"  Promised  to  Hilda?  " 

"  Hilda,"  exclaimed  Edith  readily,  "  would  never 
consent  to  it.  Thou  knowest  her  strong  nature,  her 
distaste  to — to " 

"  The  laws  of  our  holy  Church — I  do;  and  for  that 
reason  it  is,  mainly,  that  I  join  with  the  King  in  seek- 
ing to  abstract  thee  from  her  influence.  But  it  is  not 
Hilda  that  thou  hast  promised? " 

Edith  hung  her  head. 

"  Is  it  to  woman  or  to  man?  " 
1  Ingulfus. 


HAROLD  173 

Before  Edith  could  answer  the  door  from  the  ante- 
room opened  gently,  but  without  the  usual  ceremony, 
and  Harold  entered.  His  quick  quiet  eye  embraced 
both  forms,  and  curbed  Edith's  young  impulse,  which 
made  her  start  from  her  seat,  and  advance  joyously 
towards  him  as  a  protector. 

"  Fair  day  to  thee,  my  sister,"  said  the  Earl,  ad- 
vancing; "  and  pardon,  if  I  break  thus  rudely  on  thy 
leisure;  for  few  are  the  moments  when  beggar  and 
Benedictine  leave  thee  free  to  receive  thy  brother." 

"  Dost  thou  reproach  me,  Harold?" 

"  No,  Heaven  forfend !  "  replied  the  Earl,  cordially, 
and  with  a  look  at  once  of  pity  and  admiration ;  "  for 
thou  art  one  of  the  few,  in  this  court  of  simulators, 
sincere  and  true;  and  it  pleases  thee  to  serve  the  Di- 
vine Power  in  thy  way,  as  it  pleases  me  to  serve  Him 
in  mine." 

"Thine,  Harold?"  said  the  Queen,  shaking  her 
head,  but  with  a  look  of  some  human  pride  and  fond- 
ness in  her  fair  face. 

"  Mine;  as  I  learned  it  from  thee  when  I  was  thy 
pupil,  Edith;  when  to  those  studies  in  which  thou  didst 
precede  me,  thou  first  didst  lure  me  from  sport  and 
pastime;  and  from  thee  I  learned  to  glow  over  the 
deeds  of  Greek  and  Roman,  and  say,  '  They  lived  and 
died  as  men;  like  them  may  I  live  and  die!'1 

"  Oh,  true — too  truel  "  said  the  Queen,  with  a  sigh; 
"  and  I  am  to  blame  grievously  that  I  did  so  pervert 
to  earth  a  mind  that  might  otherwise  have  learned 
holier  examples; — nay,  smile  not  with  that  haughty  lip, 
my  brother;  for  believe  me — yea,  believe  me — there 
is  more  true  valour  in  the  life  of  one  patient  martyr 
than  in  the  victories  of  Caesar,  or  even  the  defeat  of 
Brutus." 


174  HAROLD 

"  It  may  be  so,"  replied  the  Earl,  "  but  out  of  the 
same  oak  we  carve  the  spear  and  the  cross;  and  those 
not  worthy  to  hold  the  one,  may  yet  not  guiltily  wield 
the  other.  Each  to  his  path  of  life — and  mine  is 
chosen."  Then,  changing  his  voice,  with  some  ab- 
ruptness, he  said,  "  But  what  hast  thou  been  saying 
to  thy  fair  godchild,  that  her  cheek  is  pale,  and  her 
eyelids  seem  so  heavy?  Edith,  Edith,  my  sister,  be- 
ware how  thou  shapest  the  lot  of  the  martyr  without 
the  peace  of  the  saint.  Had  Algive  the  nun  been 
wedded  to  Sweyn  our  brother,  Sweyn  were  not  wend- 
ing, barefooted  and  forlorn,  to  lay  the  wrecks  of  deso- 
lated life  at  the  Holy  Tomb." 

"Harold,  Harold!"  faltered  the  Queen,  much 
struck  with  his  words. 

"  But,"  the  Earl  continued — and  something  of  the 
pathos  which  belongs  to  deep  emotion  vibrated  in  the 
eloquent  voice,  accustomed  to  command  and  per- 
suade— "  we  strip  not  the  green  leaves  for  our  yule- 
hearths — we  gather  them  up  when  dry  and  sere. 
Leave  youth  on  the  bough — let  the  bird  sing  to  it — 
let  it  play  free  in  the  airs  of  heaven.  Smoke  comes 
from  the  branch  which,  cut  in  the  sap,  is  cast  upon 
the  fire,  and  regret  from  the  heart  which  is  severed 
from  the  world  while  the  world  is  in  its  May." 

The  Queen  paced  slowly,  but  in  evident  agitation, 
to  and  fro  the  room,  and  her  hands  clasped  convul- 
sively the  rosary  round  her  neck;  then,  after  a  pause 
of  thought,  she  motioned  to  Edith  and,  pointing  to 
the  oratory,  said  with  forced  composure,  "  Enter 
there,  and  there  kneel;  commune  with  thyself,  and  be 
still.  Ask  for  a  sign  from  above — pray  for  the  grace 
within.  Go;  I  would  speak  alone  with  Harold." 

Edith  crossed  her  arms  on  her  bosom  meekly,  and 


HAROLD  175 

passed  into  the  oratory.  The  Queen  watched  her  for  a 
few  moments  tenderly,  as  the  slight,  child-like  form 
bent  before  the  sacred  symbol.  Then  she  closed  the 
door  gently,  and  coming  with  a  quick  step  to  Harold, 
said,  in  a  low  but  clear  voice,  "  Dost  thou  love  the 
maiden?" 

"  Sister,"  answered  the  Earl  sadly,  "  I  love  her  as  a 
man  should  love  woman — more  than  my  life,  but  less 
than  the  ends  life  lives  for." 

"Oh,  world,  world,  world!"  cried  the  Queen,  pas- 
sionately, "  not  even  to  thine  own  objects  art  thou 
true.  O  world!  O  world!  thou  desirest  happiness 
below,  and  at  every  turn,  with  every  vanity,  thou  tram- 
plest  happiness  under  foot!  Yes,  yes;  they  said  to 
me,  '  For  the  sake  of  our  greatness,  thou  shalt  wed 
King  Edward.'  And  I  live  in  the  eyes  that  loathe 
me — and — and "  The  Queen,  as  if  conscience- 
stricken,  paused  aghast,  kissed  devoutly  the  relic  sus- 
pended to  her  rosary,  and  continued,  with  such  calm- 
ness that  it  seemed  as  if  two  women  were  blent  in  one, 
so  startling  was  the  contrast.  "  And  I  have  had  my 
reward,  but  not  from  the  world!  Even  so,  Harold 
the  Earl,  and  Earl's  son,  thou  lovest  yon  fair  child, 
and  she  thee;  and  ye  might  be  happy,  if  happiness 
were  earth's  end;  but,  though  high-born,  and  of  fair 
temporal  possessions,  she  brings  thee  not  lands  broad 
enough  for  her  dowry,  nor  troops  of  kindred  to  swell 
thy  lithsmen,  and  she  is  not  a  markstone  in  thy  march 
to  ambition;  and  so  thou  lovest  her  as  man  loves 
woman — 'less  than  the  ends  life  lives  for!" 

"  Sister,"  said  Harold,  "  thou  speakest  as  I  love  to 
hear  thee  speak — as  my  bright-eyed,  rose-lipped  sister 
spoke  in  the  days  of  old;  thou  speakest  as  a  woman 
with  warm  heart,  and  not  as  the  mummy  in  the  stiff 


176  HAROLD 

cerements  of  priestly  form;  and  if  thou  art  with  ir^, 
and  thou  wilt  give  me  countenance,  I  will  marry  thy 
godchild,  and  save  her  alike  from  the  dire  supersti- 
tions of  Hilda,  and  the  grave  of  the  abhorrent  con- 
vent." 

"But  my  father — my  father!"  cried  the  Queen, 
"who  ever  bended  that  soul  of  steel?" 

"It  is  not  my  father  I  fear;  it  is  thee  and  thy 
monks.  Forgettest  thou  that  Edith  and  I  are  within 
the  six  banned  degrees  of  the  Church?  " 

"  True,  most  true,"  said  the  Queen,  with  a  look  of 
great  terror;  "I  had  forgotten.  Avaunt,  the  very 
thought!  Pray — fast — banish  it — my  poor,  poor 
brother!"  and  she  kissed  his  brow. 

"  So,  there  fades  the  woman,  and  the  mummy 
speaks  again ! "  said  Harold,  bitterly.  "  Be  it  so :  I 
bow  to  my  doom.  Well,  there  may  be  a  time  when 
Nature  on  the  throne  of  England  shall  prevail  over 
Priestcraft;  and,  in  guerdon  for  all  my  services,  I  will 
then  ask  a  king  who  hath  blood  in  his  veins  to  win 
me  the  Pope's  pardon  and  benison.  Leave  me  that 
hope,  my  sister,  and  leave  thy  godchild  on  the  shores 
of  the  living  world." 

The  Queen  made  no  answer,  and  Harold,  auguring 
ill  from  her  silence,  moved  on  and  opened  the  door 
of  the  oratory.  But  the  image  that  there  met  him, 
that  figure  still  kneeling,  those  eyes,  so  earnest  in  the 
tears  that  streamed  from  them  fast  and  unheeded, 
fixed  on  the  holy  rood — awed  his  step  and  checked 
his  voice.  Nor  till  the  girl  had  risen,  did  he  break 
silence;  then  he  said,  gently,  "My  sister  will  press 
thee  no  more,  Edith " 

"  I  say  not  that!  "  exclaimed  the  Queen. 

"  Or  if  she  doth,  remember  thy  plighted  promise 


HAROLD  177 

under  the  wide  cope  of  blue  heaven,  the  old  nor  least 
holy  temple  of  our  common  Father." 
With  these  words  he  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  VII 

Harold  passed  into  the  Queen's  ante-chamber. 
Here  the  attendance  was  small  and  select  compared 
with  the  crowds  which  we  shall  see  presently  in  the 
ante-room  to  the  King's  closet;  for  here  came  chiefly 
the  more  learned  ecclesiastics,  attracted  instinctively 
by  the  Queen's  own  mental  culture,  and  few  indeed 
were  they  at  that  day  (perhaps  the  most  illiterate 
known  in  England  since  the  death  of  Alfred;1)  and 
here  came  not  the  tribe  of  impostors,  and  the  relic- 
venders,  whom  the  infantine  simplicity  and  lavish 
waste  of  the  Confessor  attracted.  Some  four  or  five 
priests  and  monks,  some  lonely  widow,  some  orphan 
child,  humble  worth,  or  protected  sorrow,  made  the 
noiseless  levee  of  the  sweet,  sad  Queen. 

The  groups  turned,  with  patient  eyes,  towards  the 
Earl  as  he  emerged  from  that  chamber,  which  it  was 
rare  indeed  to  quit  unconsoled,  and  marvelled  at  the 
flush  in  his  cheek,  and  the  disquiet  on  his  brow;  but 
Harold  was  dear  to  the  clients  of  his  sister;  for,  de- 
spite his  supposed  indifference  to  the  mere  priestly 
virtues  (if  virtues  we  call  them)  of  the  decrepit  time, 
his  intellect  was  respected  by  yon  learned  ecclesias- 

1  The  clergy  (says  Malmesbury),  contented  with  a  very 
slight  share  of  learning,  could  scarcely  stammer  out  the  words 
of  the  sacraments;  and  a  person  who  understood  grammar 
was  an  object  of  wonder  and  astonishment.  Other  authorities, 
likely  to  be  impartial,  speak  quite  as  strongly  as  to  the  preva- 
lent ignorance  of  the  time. 
VOL.  I. — 12 


i;8  HAROLD 

tics;  and  his  character,  as  the  foe  of  all  injustice,  and 
the  fosterer  of  all  that  were  desolate,  was  known  to 
yon  pale-eyed  widow  and  yon  trembling  orphan. 

In  the  atmosphere  of  that  quiet  assembly,  the  Earl 
seemed  to  recover  his  kindly  temperament,  and  he 
paused  to  address  a  friendly  or  a  soothing  word  to 
each;  so  that  when  he  vanished,  the  hearts  there  felt 
more  light;  and  the  silence  hushed  before  his  entrance, 
was  broken  by  many  whispers  in  praise  of  the  good 
Earl. 

Descending  a  staircase  without  the  walls — as  even 
in  royal  halls  the  principal  staircases  were  then — Har- 
old gained  a  wide  court,  in  which  loitered  several 
house-carles  1  and  attendants,  whether  of  the  King  or 
the  visitors;  and,  reaching  the  entrance  of  the  palace, 
took  his  way  towards  the  King's  rooms,  which  lay 
near,  and  round,  what  is  now  called  "  The  Painted 
Chamber,"  then  used  as  a  bedroom  by  Edward  on 
state  occasions. 

And  now  he  entered  the  ante-chamber  of  his  royal 
brother-in-law.  Crowded  it  was,  but  rather  seemed 
it  the  hall  of  a  convent  than  the  ante-room  of  a  king. 
Monks,  pilgrims,  priests,  met  his  eye  in  every  nook; 
and  not  there  did  the  Earl  pause  to  practise  the  arts 
of  popular  favour.  Passing  erect  through  the  midst, 
he  beckoned  forth  the  officer,  in  attendance  at  the  ex- 
treme end,  who,  after  an  interchange  of  whispers, 
ushered  him  into  the  royal  presence.  The  monks  and 
the  priests,  gazing  towards  the  door  which  had  closed 
on  his  stately  form,  said  to  each  other: 

1  House-carles  in  the  royal  court  were  the  body-guard, 
mostly,  if  not  all,  of  Danish  origin.  They  appear  to  have  been 
first  formed,  or  at  least  employed,  in  that  capacity  by  Canute. 
With  the  great  earls,  the  house-carles  probably  exercised  the 
same  functions;  but  in  the  ordinary  acceptation  of  the  word 
in  families  of  lower  rank,  house-carle  was  a  domestic  servant 


HAROLD  179 

"The  King's  Norman  favourites  at  least  honoured 
the  Church." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  an  abbot;  "  and  an  it  were  not 
for  two  things,  I  should  love  the  Norman  better  than 
the  Saxon." 

"  What  are  they,  my  father  ? "  asked  an  aspiring 
young  monk. 

"  Inprinis,"  quoth  the  abbot,  proud  of  the  one  Latin 
word  he  thought  he  knew,  but,  that,  as  we  see,  was  an 
error;  "  they  cannot  speak  so  as  to  be  understood,  and 
I  fear  me  much  they  incline  to  mere  carnal  learning." 

Here  there  was  a  sanctified  groan: — 

"  Count  William  himself  spoke  to  me  in  Latin !  " 
continued  the  abbot,  raising  his  eyebrows. 

"Did  he? — Wonderful!"  exclaimed  several  voices. 
"  And  what  did  you  answer,  holy  father?  " 

"  Marry,"  said  the  abbot  solemnly,  "  I  replied, 
Inprinis." 

"  Good !  "  said  the  young  monk,  with  a  look  of  pro- 
found admiration. 

"  Whereat  the  good  Count  looked  puzzled — as  I 
meant  him  to  be: — a  heinous  fault,  and  one  intolerant 
to  the  clergy,  that  love  of  profane  tongues!  And  the 
next  thing  against  your  Norman  is  (added  the  abbot, 
with  a  sly  wink),  that  he  is  a  close  man,  who  loves  not 
his  stoup;  now,  I  say,  that  a  priest  never  has  more 
hold  over  a  sinner  than  when  he  makes  the  sinner  open 
his  heart  to  him." 

"  That's  clear! "  said  a  fat  priest,  with  a  lubricate 
and  shining  nose. 

"  And  how,"  pursued  the  abbot  triumphantly,  "  can 
a  sinner  open  his  heavy  heart  until  you  have  given  him 
something  to  lighten  it?  Oh,  many  and  many  a 
wretched  man  have  I  comforted  spiritually  over  a 


i8o  HAROLD 

flagon  of  stout  ale;  and  many  a  good  legacy  to  the 
Church  hath  come  out  of  a  friendly  wassail  between 
watchful  shepherd  and  strayed  sheep!  But  what  hast 
thou  there?"  resumed  the  abbot,  turning  to  a  man, 
clad  in  the  lay  garb  of  a  burgess  of  London,  who  had 
just  entered  the  room,  followed  by  a  youth,  bearing 
what  seemed  a  coffer,  covered  with  a  fine  linen  cloth. 

"  Holy  father!  "  said  the  burgess,  wiping  his  fore- 
head, "  it  is  a  treasure  so  great,  that  I  trow  Hugoline, 
the  King's  treasurer,  will  scowl  at  me  for  a  year  to 
come,  for  he  likes  to  keep  his  own  grip  on  the  King's 
gold." 

At  this  indiscreet  observation,  the  abbot,  the  monks, 
and  all  the  priestly  bystanders  looked  grim  and 
gloomy,  for  each  had  his  own  special  design  upon  the 
peace  of  poor  Hugoline,  the  treasurer,  and  liked  not 
to  see  him  the  prey  of  a  layman. 

"  Inprinis! "  quoth  the  abbot,  puffing  out  the  word 
with  great  scorn;  "  thinkest  thou,  son  of  Mammon, 
that  our  good  King  sets  his  pious  heart  on  gew-gaw, 
and  gems,  and  such  vanities?  Thou  shouldst  take 
the  goods  to  Count  Baldwin  of  Flanders;  or  Tostig, 
the  proud  Earl's  proud  son." 

"Marry!"  said  the  cheapman,  with  a  smile;  "my 
treasure  will  find  small  price  with  Baldwin  the  scoffer, 
and  Tostig  the  vain!  Nor  need  ye  look  at  me  so 
sternly,  my  fathers;  but  rather  vie  with  each  other  who 
shall  win  this  wonder  of  wonders  for  his  own  con- 
vent; know,  in  a  word,  that  it  is  the  right  thumb  of 
St.  Jude,  which  a  worthy  man  bought  at  Rome  for 
me,  for  3000  Ib.  weight  of  silver;  and  I  ask  but  500  Ib. 
over  the  purchase  for  my  pains  and  my  fee."  l 

1  This  was  cheap.  For  Agelnoth,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
gave  the  Pope  6000  Ib.  weight  of  silver  for  the  arm  of  St 
Augustine. — MALMESBURY. 


HAROLD  181 

"Humph!"  said  the  abbot. 

"  Humph!  "  said  the  aspiring  young  monk;  the  rest 
gathered  wistfully  round  the  linen  cloth. 

A  fiery  exclamation  of  wrath  and  disdain  was  here 
heard;  and  all  turning,  saw  a  tall,  fierce-looking  thegn, 
who  had  found  his  way  into  that  group,  like  a  hawk  in 
a  rookery. 

"  Dost  thou  tell  me,  knave,"  quoth  the  thegn,  in 
a  dialect  that  bespoke  him  a  Dane  by  origin,  with  the 
broad  burr  still  retained  in  the  north;  "  dost  fhou  tell 
me  that  the  King  will  waste  his  gold  on  such  fool- 
eries, while  the  fort  built  by  Canute  at  the  flood  of 
the  Humber  is  all  fallen  into  ruin,  without  a  man  in 
steel  jacket  to  keep  watch  on  the  war  fleets  of  Swede 
and  Norwegian?" 

"  Worshipful  minister,"  replied  the  cheapman,  with 
some  slight  irony  in  his  tone,  "  these  reverend  fathers 
will  tell  thee  that  the  thumb  of  St.  Jude  is  far  better 
aid  against  Swede  and  Norwegian  than  forts  of  stone 
and  jackets  of  steel;  nathless,  if  thou  wantest  jackets 
of  steel,  I  have  some  to  sell  at  a  fair  price,  of  the  last 
fashion,  and  helms  with  long  nose-pieces,  as  are  worn 
by  the  Normans." 

"  The  thumb  of  a  withered  old  saint,"  cried  the 
Dane,  not  heeding  the  last  words,  "  more  defence  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Humber  than  crenellated  castles  and 
mailed  men!  " 

"  Surely,  naught  son,"  said  the  abbot,  looking 
shocked,  and  taking  part  with  the  cheapman.  "  Dost 
thou  not  remember  that,  in  the  pious  and  famous 
council  of  1014,  it  was  decreed  to  put  aside  all  weap- 
ons of  flesh  against  thy  heathen  countrymen,  and  de- 
pend alone  on  St.  Michael  to  fight  for  us?  Thinkest 
thou  that  the  saint  would  ever  suffer  his  holy  thumb 


182  HAROLD 

to  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Gentiles? — never!  Go  to, 
thou  art  not  fit  to  have  conduct  of  the  King's  wars. 
Go  to,  and  repent,  my  son,  or  the  King  shall  hear 
of  it." 

"Ah,  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing!"  muttered  the 
Dane,  turning  on  his  heel;  "if  thy  monastery  were 
but  built  on  the  other  side  the  Humber!  " 

The  cheapman  heard  him,  and  smiled.  While  such 
the  scene  in  the  ante-room,  we  follow  Harold  into  the 
King's  presence. 

On  entering,  he  found  there  a  man  in  the  prime  of 
life,  and  though  richly  clad  in  embroidered  gonna,  and 
with  gilt  ateghar  at  his  side,  still  with  the  loose  robe, 
the  long  moustache,  and  the  skin  of  the  throat  and 
right  hand  punctured  with  characters  and  devices, 
which  proved  his  adherence  to  the  fashions  of  the 
Saxon.1  And  Harold's  eye  sparkled,  for  in  this  guest 
he  recognised  the  father  of  Aldyth,  Earl  Algar,  son 
of  Leofric.  The  two  nobles  exchanged  grave  salu- 
tations, and  each  eyed  the  other  wistfully. 

The  contrast  between  the  two  was  striking.     The 
Danish  race  were  men  generally  of  larger  frame  and 
grander  mould  than  the  Saxon;2  and  though  in  all 
else,  as  to  exterior,  Harold  was  eminently  Saxon,  yet,  • 
in  common  with  his  brothers,  he  took  from  the  moth- 

1  William  of  Malmesbury  says,  that  the  English,  at  the  time 
of  the  Conquest,  loaded  their  arms  with  gold  bracelets,  and 
adorned  their  skins  with  punctured  designs,  i.e.,  a  sort  of  tat- 
tooing.    He  says,  that  they  then  wore  short  garments,  reach- 
ing to  the  mid-knee ;    but  that  was  a  Norman  fashion,  and  the 
loose  robes  assigned  in  the  text  to  Algar  were  the  old  Saxon 
fashion,  which  made  but  little  distinction  between  the  dress 
of  women  and  that  of  men. 

2  And  in  England,  to  this  day,  the  descendants  of  the  Anglo- 
Danes,   in  Cumberland   and   Yorkshire,  are  still  a  taller  and 
bonier  race  than  those  of  the  Anglo-Saxons,  as  in  Surrey  and 
Sussex. 


HAROLD  183 

er's  side  the  lofty  air  and  iron  frame  of  the  old  kings 
of  the  sea.  But  Algar,  below  the  middle  height, 
though  well  set,  was  slight  in  comparison  with  Har- 
old. His  strength  was  that  which  men  often  take 
rather  from  the  nerve  than  the  muscle ;  a  strength  that 
belongs  to  quick  tempers  and  restless  energies.  His 
light  blue  eye,  singularly  vivid  and  glittering;  his 
quivering  lip,  the  veins  swelling  at  each  emotion  on 
the  fair  white  temples;  the  long  yellow  hair,  bright  as 
gold,  and  resisting,  in  its  easy  curls,  all  attempts  to  curb 
it  into  the  smooth  flow  most  in  fashion;  the  nervous 
movements  of  the  gesture;  the  somewhat  sharp  and 
hasty  tones  of  the  voice;  all  opposed,  as  much  as  if 
the  two  men  were  of  different  races,  the  steady,  deep 
eye  of  Harold,  his  composed  mien,  sweet  and  majes- 
tic, his  decorous  locks  parted  on  the  king-like  front, 
with  their  large  single  curl  where  they  touched  the 
shoulder.  Intelligence  and  will  were  apparent  in  both 
the  men;  but  the  intelligence  of  one  was  acute  and 
rapid,  that  of  the  other  profound  and  steadfast;  the 
will  of  one  broke  in  flashes  of  lightning,  that  of  the 
other  was  calm  as  the  summer  sun  at  noon. 

"  Thou  art  welcome,  Harold,"  said  the  King,  with 
less  than  his  usual  listlessness,  and  with  a  look  of  re- 
lief as  the  Earl  approached  him. 

"  Our  good  Algar  comes  to  us  with  a  suit  well 
worthy  consideration,  though  pressed  somewhat  hotly, 
and  evincing  too  great  a  desire  for  goods  worldly; 
contrasting  in  this  his  most  laudable  father  our  well- 
beloved  Leofric,  who  spends  his  substance  in  endow- 
ing monasteries  and  dispensing  alms;  wherefor  he 
shall  receive  a  hundred-fold  in  the  treasure-house 
above." 

"  A  good  interest,  doubtless,  my  lord  the  King," 


1 84  HAROLD 

said  Algar,  quickly,  "  but  one  that  is  not  paid  to  his 
heirs;  and  the  more  need,  if  my  father  (whom  I  blame 
not  for  doing  as  he  lists  with  his  own)  gives  all  he 
hath  to  the  monks — the  more  need,  I  say,  to  take 
care  that  his  son  shall  be  enabled  to  follow  his  ex- 
ample. As  it  is,  most  noble  King,  I  fear  me  that  Al- 
gar, son  of  Leofric,  will  have  nothing  to  give.  In 
brief,  Earl  Harold,"  continued  Algar,  turning  to  his 
fellow-thegn — "  in  brief,  thus  stands  the  matter.  When 
our  lord  the  King  was  first  graciously  pleased  to  con- 
sent to  rule  in  England,  the  two  chiefs  who  most  as- 
sured his  throne  were  thy  father  and  mine:  often  foes, 
they  laid  aside  feud  and  jealousy  for  the  sake  of  the 
Saxon  line.  Now,  since  then,  thy  father  hath  strung 
earldom  to  earldom,  like  links  in  a  coat-mail.  And, 
save  Northumbria  and  Mercia,  well-nigh  all  England 
falls  to  him  and  his  sons:  whereas  my  father  remains 
what  he  was,  and  my  father's  son  stands  landless  and 
penceless.  In  thine  absence  the  King  was  graciously 
pleased  to  bestow  on  me  thy  father's  earldom;  men 
say  that  I  ruled  it  well.  Thy  father  returns,  and 
though  "  (here  Algar's  eyes  shot  fire,  and  his  hand 
involuntarily  rested  on  his  ateghar)  "  I  could  have 
held  it,  methinks,  by  the  strong  hand,  I  gave  it  up  at 
my  father's  prayer  and  the  King's  hest,  with  a  free 
heart.  Now,  therefore,  I  come  to  my  lord,  and  I  ask, 
'  What  lands  and  what  lordships  canst  thou  spare  in 
broad  England  to  Algar,  once  Earl  of  Wessex,  and 
son  to  the  Leofric  whose  hand  smoothed  the  way  to 
thy  throne?'  My  lord  the  King  is  pleased  to  preach 
to  me  contempt  of  the  world;  thou  dost  not  despise 
the  world,  Earl  of  the  East  Angles, — what  sayest  thou 
to  the  heir  of  Leofric?  " 

"  That  thy  suit  is  just,"  answered  Harold,  calmly, 
"  but  urged  with  small  reverence." 


HAROLD  185 

Earl  Algar  bounded  like  a'  stag  that  the  arrow  hath 
startled. 

"  It  becomes  thee,  who  hast  backed  thy  suits  with 
war-ships  and  mail,  to  talk  of  reverence,  and  rebuke 
one  whose  fathers  reigned  over  earldoms,1  when 
thine  were,  no  doubt,  ceorls  at  the  plough.  But  for 
Edric  Streone,  the  traitor  and  low-born,  what  had 
been  Wolnoth,  thy  grandsire? " 

So  rude  and  home  an  assault  in  the  presence  of  the 
King,  who,  though  personally  he  loved  Harold  in  his 
lukewarm  way,  yet,  like  all  weak  men,  was  not  dis- 
pleased to  see  the  strong  split  their  strength  against 
each  other,  brought  the  blood  into  Harold's  cheek; 
but  he  answered  calmly: 

"  We  live  in  a  land,  son  of  Leofric,  in  which  birth, 
though  not  disesteemed,  gives  of  itself  no  power  in 
council  or  camp.  We  belong  to  a  land  where  men 
are  valued  for  what  they  are,  not  for  what  their  dead 
ancestors  might  have  been.  So  has  it  been  for  ages 
in  Saxon  England,  where  my  fathers,  through  God- 
win, as  thou  sayest,  might  have  been  ceorls;  and  so, 
I  have  heard,  it  is  in  the  land  of  the  martial  Danes, 
where  my  fathers,  through  Githa,  reigned  on  the 
thrones  of  the  North." 

"  Thou  dost  well,"  said  Algar,  gnawing  his  lip,  "  to 

1  Very  few  of  the  greater  Saxon  nobles  could  pretend  to  a 
lengthened  succession  in  their  demesnes.  The  wars  with  the 
Danes,  the  many  revolutions  which  threw  new  families  upper- 
most, the  confiscations  and  banishments,  and  the  invariable 
rule  of  rejecting  the  heir,  if  not  of  mature  years  at  his  father's 
death,  caused  rapid  changes  of  dynasty  in  the  several  earldoms. 
But  the  family  of  Leofric  had  just  claims  to  a  very  rare  an- 
tiquity in  their  Mercian  lordship.  Leofric  was  the  sixth  Earl 
of  Chester  and  Coventry,  in  lineal  descent  from  his  namesake, 
Leofric  the  First ;  he  extended  the  supremacy  of  his  hereditary 
lordship  over  all  Mercia.  See  DUGDALE,  Monast.  vol.  iii.  p. 
102;  and  PALGRAVE'S  Commonwealth,  Proofs  and  Illustrations, 
p.  291. 


1 86  HAROLD 

shelter  thyself  on  the  spintlle  side,  but  we  Saxons  of 
pure  descent  think  little  of  your  kings  of  the  North, 
pirates  and  idolaters,  and  eaters  of  horseflesh ;  but  en- 
joy what  thou  hast,  and  let  Algar  have  his  due." 

"  It  is  for  the  King,  not  his  servant,  to  answer  the 
prayer  of  Algar,"  said  Harold,  withdrawing  to  the 
farther  end  of  the  room. 

Algar's  eye  followed  him,  and  observing  that  the 
King  was  fast  sinking  into  one  of  the  fits  of  religious 
reverie  in  which  he  sought  to  be  inspired  with  a  de- 
cision, whenever  his  mind  was  perplexed,  he  moved 
with  a  light  step  to  Harold,  put  his  hand  on  his  shoul- 
der, and  whispered: 

"  We  do  ill  to  quarrel  with  each  other — I  repent 
me  of  hot  words — enough.  Thy  father  is  a  wise  man, 
and  sees  far — thy  father  would  have  us  friends.  Be 
it  so.  Hearken:  my  daughter  Aldyth  is  esteemed  not 
the  least  fair  of  the  maidens  in  England;  I  will  give 
her  to  thee  as  thy  wife,  and  as  thy  morgen  gift,  thou 
shalt  win  for  me  from  the  King  the  earldom  forfeited 
by  thy  brother  Sweyn,  now  parcelled  out  amongst 
sub-earls  and  thegns — easy  enow  to  control.  By  the 
shrine  of  St.  Alban,  dost  thou  hesitate,  man?" 

"  No,  not  an  instant,"  said  Harold,  stung  to  the 
quick.  "  Not,  couldst  thou  offer  me  all  Mercia  as  her 
dower,  would  I  wed  the  daughter  of  Algar;  and  bend 
my  knee,  as  a  son  to  a  wife's  father,  to  the  man  who 
despises  my  lineage,  while  he  truckles  to  my  power." 

Algar's  face  grew  convulsed  with  rage;  but  without 
saying  a  word  to  the  Earl  he  strode  back  to  Edward, 
who  now  with  vacant  eyes  looked  up  from  the  rosary 
over  which  he  had  been  bending,  and  said  abruptly: 

"  My  lord  the  King,  I  have  spoken  as  I  think  it  be- 
comes a  man  who  knows  his  own  claims,  and  believes 


HAROLD  187 

in  the  gratitude  of  princes.  Three  days  will  I  tarry  in 
London  for  your  gracious  answer ;  on  the  fourth  I  de- 
part. May  the  saints  guard  your  throne,  and  bring 
around  it  its  best  defence,  the  thegn-born  satraps 
whose  fathers  fought  with  Alfred  and  Athelstan.  All 
went  well  with  merrie  England  till  the  hoof  of  the 
Dane  King  broke  the  soil,  and  mushrooms  sprung  up 
where  the  oak-trees  fell." 

When  the  son  of  Leofric  had  left  the  chamber,  the 
King  rose  wearily  and  said  in  Norman  French,  to 
which  language  he  always  yearningly  returned  when 
with  those  who  could  speak  it: 

"  Beau  frcrc  and  bien  aime,  in  what  trifles  must  a 
king  pass  his  life!  And,  all  this  while,  matters  grave 
and  urgent  demand  me.  Know  that  Eadmer,  the 
cheapman,  waits  without,  and  hath  brought  me,  dear 
and  good  man,  the  thumb  of  St.  Jude!  What  thought 
of  delight!  And  this  unmannerly  son  of  strife,  with 
his  jay's  voice  and  wolf's  eyes,  screaming  at  me  for 
earldoms! — oh  the  folly  of  man!  Naught,  naught, 
very  naught !  " 

"Sir  and  King,"  said  Harold;  "it  ill  becomes  me 
to  arraign  your  pious  desires,  but  these  relics  are  of 
vast  cost;  our  coasts  are  ill  defended,  and  the  Dane 
yet  lays  claim  to  your  kingdom.  Three  thousand 
pounds  of  silver  and  more  does  it  need  to  repair  even 
the  old  wall  of  London  and  Southweorc." 

"Three  thousand  pounds!"  cried  the  King;  "  thou 
art  mad,  Harold !  I  have  scarce  twice  that  sum  in  the 
treasury;  and  besides  the  thumb  of  St.  Jude,  I  daily 
expect  the  tooth  of  St.  Remigius — the  tooth  of  St. 
Remigius! " 

Harold  sighed,  "  Vex  not  yourself,  my  lord,  I  will 
see  to  the  defences  of  London.  For,  thanks  to  your 


1 88  HAROLD 

grace,  my  revenues  are  large,  while  my  wants  are 
simple.  I  seek  you  now  to  pray  your  leave  to  visit 
my  earldom.  My  lithsmen  murmur  at  my  absence, 
and  grievances,  many  and  sore,  have  arisen  in  my 
exile." 

The  King  stared  in  terror;  and  his  look  was  that 
of  a  child  when  about  to  be  left  in  the  dark. 

"Nay,  nay;  I  cannot  spare  thee,  beau  frere.  Thou 
curbest  all  these  stiff  thegns — thou  leavest  me  time 
for  the  devout;  moreover,  thy  father,  thy  father,  I  will 
not  be  left  to  thy  father!  I  love  him  not!  " 

"  My  father,"  said  Harold,  mournfully,  "  returns  to 
his  own  earldom;  and  of  all  our  House  you  will  have 
but  the  mild  face  of  your  queen  by  your  side !  " 

The  King's  lip  writhed  at  that  hinted  rebuke,  or  im- 
plied consolation. 

"  Edith  the  Queen,"  he  said,  after  a  slight  pause, 
"is  pious  and  good;  and  she  hath  never  gainsaid  my 
will,  and  she  hath  set  before  her  as  a  model  the  chaste 
Susannah,  as  I,  unworthy  man,  from  youth  upward, 
have  walked  in  the  pure  steps  of  Joseph.1  But,"  added 
the  King,  with  a  touch  of  human  feeling  in  his  voice, 
"  canst  thou  not  conceive,  Harold,  thou  who  art  a  war- 
rior, what  it  would  be  to  see  ever  before  thee  the  face 
of  thy  deadliest  foe — the  one  against  whom  all  thy 
struggles  of  life  and  death  had  turned  into  memories 
of  hyssop  and  gall?" 

"  My  sister!  "  exclaimed  Harold,  in  indignant  amaze, 
"  My  sister  thy  deadliest  foe!  She  who  never  once 
murmured  at  neglect,  disgrace — she  whose  youth  hath 
been  consumed  in  prayers  for  thee  and  thy  realm — my 
sister!  O  King,  I  dream?" 

"  Thou  dreamest  not,  carnal  man,"  said  the  King, 
1  AILRED,  de  Vit.  Bdw. 


HAROLD  t     189 

peevishly.  ;'  Dreams  are  the  gifts  of  the  saints,  and 
are  not  granted  to  such  as  thou!  Dost  thou  think 
that,  in  the  prime  of  my  manhood,  I  could  have  youth 
and  beauty  forced  on  my  sight,  and  hear  man's  law 
and  man's  voice  say,  '  They  are  thine,  and  thine  only,' 
and  not  feel  that  war  was  brought  to  my  hearth,  and 
a  snare  set  on  my  bed,  and  that  the  fiend  had  set 
watch  on  my  soul?  Verily,  I  tell  thee,  man  of  battle, 
that  thou  hast  known  no  strife  as  awful  as  mine,  and 
achieved  no  victory  as  hard  and  as  holy.  And  now, 
when  my  beard  is  silver,  and  the  Adam  of  old  is  ex- 
pelled at  the  precincts  of  death;  now,  thinkest  thou, 
that  I  can  be  reminded  of  the  strife  and  temptation 
of  yore,  without  bitterness  and  shame;  when  days 
were  spent  in  fasting,  and  nights  in  fierce  prayer;  and 
in  the  face  of  woman  I  saw  the  devices  of  Satan  ?  " 

Edward  coloured  as  he  spoke,  and  his  voice  trem- 
bled with  the  accents  of  what  seemed  hate.  Harold 
gazed  on  him  mutely,  and  felt  that  at  last  he  had  won 
the  secret  that  had  ever  perplexed  him,  and  that  in 
seeking  to  be  above  the  humanity  of  love,  the  would- 
be  saint  had  indeed  turned  love  into  the  hues  of  hate — 
a  thought  of  anguish,  and  a  memory  of  pain. 

The  King  recovered  himself  in  a  few  moments,  and 
said,  with  some  dignity,  "  But  God  and  his  saints 
alone  should  know  the  secrets  of  the  household. 
What  I  have  said  was  wrung  from  me.  Bury  it  in  thy 
heart.  Leave  me,  then,  Harold,  sith  so  it  must  be. 
Put  thine  earldom  in  order,  attend  to  the  monasteries 
and  the  poor,  and  return  soon.  As  for  Algar,  what 
sayest  thou?" 

"  I  fear  me,"  answered  the  large-souled  Harold,  with 
a  victorious  effort  of  justice  over  resentment,  "  that 
if  you  reject  his  suit  you  will  drive  him  into  some  per- 


190  HAROLD 

ilous  extremes.  Despite  his  rash  and  proud  spirit,  he 
is  brave  against  foes,  and  beloved  by  the  ceorls,  who 
oft  like  best  the  frank  and  hasty  spirit.  Wherefore 
some  power  and  lordship  it  were  wise  to  give,  without 
dispossessing  others,  and  not  more  wise  than  due,  for 
his  father  served  you  well." 

"  And  hath  endowed  more  houses  of  God  than  any 
earl  in  the  kingdom.  But  Algar  is  no  Leofric.  We 
will  consider  your  words  and  heed  them.  Bless  you, 
beau  frere!  and  send  in  the  cheapman.  The  thumb  of 
St.  Jude!  What  a  gift  to  my  new  church  of  St.  Peter! 
The  thumb  of  St.  Jude! — Non  nobis  gloria!  Sancta 
Maria!  The  thumb  of  St.  Jude!" 


BOOK  V 

DEATH  AND  LOVE 

CHAPTER   I 

Harold,  without  waiting  once  more  to  see  Edith, 
nor  even  taking  leave  of  his  father,  repaired  to  Dun- 
wich,1  the  capital  of  his  earldom.  In  his  absence,  the 
King  wholly  forgot  Algar  and  his  suit;  and  in  the 
mean  while  the  only  lordships  at  his  disposal,  Stigand, 
the  grasping  bishop,  got  from  him  without  an  effort. 
In  much  wrath,  Earl  Algar,  on  the  fourth  day,  assem- 
bling all  the  loose  men-at-arms  he  could  find  around 
the  metropolis,  and  at  the  head  of  a  numerous  dis- 
orderly band,  took  his  way  into  Wales,  with  his  young 
daughter  Aldyth,  to  whom  the  crown  of  a  Welch  king 
was  perhaps  some  comfort  for  the  loss  of  the  fair  Earl ; 
though  the  rumour  ran  that  she  had  long  since  lost  her 
heart  to  her  father's  foe. 

Edith,  after  a  long  homily  from  the  King,  returned 
to  Hilda;  nor  did  her  godmother  renew  the  subject  of 
,  the  convent.  All  she  said  on  parting  was,  "  Even  in 
youth  the  silver  cord  may  be  loosened,  and  the  golden 
bowl  may  be  broken;  and  rather  perhaps  in  youth  than 
in  age,  when  the  heart  has  grown  hard,  wilt  thou  recall 
with  a  sigh  my  counsels." 

Godwin  had  departed  to  Wales ;  all  his  sons  were  at 

1  Dunwich,  now  swallowed  up  by  the  sea. — Hostile  element 
to  the  house  of  Godwin. 

191 


192  HAROLD 

/ 

their  several  lordships;  Edward  was  left  alone  to  his 
monks  and  relic-venders.     And  so  months  passed. 

Now  it  was  the  custom  with  the  old  kings  of  Eng- 
land to  hold  state  and  wear  their  crowns  thrice  a  year, 
at  Christmas,  at  Easter,  and  at  Whitsuntide;  and  in 
those  times  their  nobles  came  round  them,  and  there 
was  much  feasting  and  great  pomp. 

So,  in  the  Easter  of  the  year  of  our  Lord  1053,  King 
Edward  kept  his  court  at  Windshore,1  and  Earl  God- 
win and  his  sons,  and  many  others  of  high  degree,  left 
their  homes  to  do  honour  to  the  King.  And  Earl 
Godwin  came  first  to  his  house  in  London — near  the 
Tower  Palatine,  in  what  is  now  called  the  Fleet — and 
Harold  the  Earl,  and  Tostig,  and  Leofwine,  and  Gurth, 
were  to  meet  him  there,  and  go  thence,  with  the  full 
state  of  their  sub-thegns,  and  cnehts,  and  house-carles, 
their  falcons,  and  their  hounds,  as  become  men  of  such 
rank,  to  the  court  of  King  Edward. 

Earl  Godwin  sate  with  his  wife,  Githa,  in  a  room  out 
of  the  Hall,  which  looked  on  the  Thames, — awaiting 
Harold,  who  was  expected  to  arrive  ere  nightfall. 
Gurth  had  ridden  forth  to  meet  his  brother,  and  Leof- 
wine and  Tostig  had  gone  over  to  Southwark,  to  try 
their  band-dogs  on  the  great  bear,  which  had  been 
brought  from  the  north  a  few  days  before,  and  was 
said  to  have  hugged  many  good  hounds  to  death,  and 
a  large  train  of  thegns  and  house-carles  had  gone  with 
them  to  see  the  sport;  so  that  the  old  Earl  and  his  lady 
the  Dane  sate  alone.  And  there  was  a  cloud  upon 
Earl  Godwin's  large  forehead,  and  he  sate  by  the  fire, 
spreading  his  hands  before  it,  and  looking  thought- 
fully on  the  flame,  as  it  broke  through  the  smoke 
which  burst  out  into  the  cover,  or  hole  in  the  roof. 
1  Windsor. 


HAROLD  193 

And  in  that  large  house  there  were  no  less  than  three 
"  covers,"  or  rooms,  wherein  fires  could  be  lit  in  the 
centre  of  the  floor;  and  the  rafters  above  were  black- 
ened with  the  smoke;  and  in  those  good  old  days,  ere 
chimneys,  if  existing,  were  much  in  use,  "  poses,  and 
rheumatisms,  and  catarrhs,"  were  unknown,  so  whole- 
some and  healthful  was  the  smoke.  Earl  Godwin's 
favourite  hound,  old,  like  himself,  lay  at  his  feet, 
dreaming,  for  it  whined  and  was  restless.  And  the 
Earl's  old  hawk,  with  its  feathers  all  stiff  and  sparse, 
perched  on  the  dossal  of  the  Earl's  chair:  and  the  floor 
was  pranked  with  rushes  and  sweet  herbs — the  first 
of  the  spring;  and  Githa's  feet  were  on  her  stool,  and 
she  leaned  her  proud  face  on  the  small  hand  which 
proved  her  descent  from  the  Dane,  and  rocked  herself 
to  and  fro,  and  thought  of  her  son  Wolnoth  in  the 
court  of  the  Norman. 

"  Githa,"  at  last  said  the  Earl,  "  thou  hast  been  to 
me  a  good  wife  and  a  true,  and  thou  hast  borne  me 
tall  and  bold  sons,  some  of  whom  have  caused  us  sor- 
row, and  some  joy;  and  in  sorrow  and  in  joy  we  have 
but  drawn  closer  to  each  other.  Yet  when  we  wed 
thou  wert  in  thy  first  youth,  and  the  best  part  of  my 
years  was  fled;  and  thou  wert  a  Dane  and  I  a  Saxon; 
and  thou  a  king's  niece,  and  now  a  king's  sister,  and 
I  but  tracing  two  descents  to  thegn's  rank." 

Moved  and  marvelling  at  this  touch  of  sentiment  in 
the  calm  earl,  in  whom  indeed  such  sentiment  was 
rare,  Githa  roused  herself  from  her  musings,  and  said, 
simply  and  anxiously: 

"  I  fear  my  lord  is  not  well,  that  he  speaks  thus  to 
Githa!" 

The  Earl  smiled  faintly. 

"  Thou  art  right  with  thy  woman's  wit,  wife.  And 
VOL.  I.— 13 


194  HAROLD 

for  the  last  few  weeks,  though  I  said  it  not  to  alarm 
thee,  I  have  had  strange  noises  in  my  ears,  and  a  surge, 
as  of  blood,  to  the  temples." 

"  O  Godwin !  dear  spouse,"  said  Githa,  tenderly, 
"  and  I  was  blind  to  the  cause,  but  wondered  why 
there  was  some  change  in  thy  manner!  But  I  will 
go  to  Hilda  to-morrow;  she  hath  charms  against  all 
disease." 

"  Leave  Hilda  in  peace,  to  give  her  charms  to  the 
young;  age  defies  Wigh  and  Wicca.  Now  hearken 
to  me.  I  feel  that  my  thread  is  nigh  spent,  and,  as 
Hilda  would  say,  my  Fylgia  forewarns  me  that  we  are 
about  to  part.  Silence,  I  say,  and  hear  me.  I  have 
done  proud  things  in  my  day;  I  have  made  kings  and 
built  thrones,  and  I  stand  higher  in  England  than  ever 
thegn  or  earl  stood  before.  I  would  not,  Githa,  that 
the  tree  of  my  house,  planted  in  the  storm,  and  watered 
with  lavish  blood,  should  wither  away." 

The  old  Earl  paused,  and  Githa  said,  loftily: 

"  Fear  not  that  thy  name  will  pass  from  the  earth, 
or  thy  race  from  power.  For  fame  has  been  wrought 
by  thy  hands,  and  sons  have  been  born  to  thy  embrace; 
and  the  boughs  of  the  tree  thou  hast  planted  shall  live 
in  the  sunlight  when  we  its  roots,  O  my  husband,  are 
buried  in  the  earth." 

"  Githa,"  replied  the  Earl,  "  thou  speakest  as  the 
daughter  of  kings  and  the  mother  of  men;  but  listen 
to  me,  for  my  soul  is  heavy.  Of  these  our  sons,  our 
first-born,  alas!  is  a  wanderer  and  outcast — Sweyn, 
once  the  beautiful  and  brave;  and  Wolnoth,  thy  dar- 
ling, is  a  guest  in  the  court  of  the  Norman,  our  foe. 
Of  the  rest,  Gurth  is  so  mild  and  so  calm,  that  I  pre- 
dict without  fear  that  he  will  be  warrior  of  fame,  for 
the  mildest  in  hall  are  ever  the  boldest  in  field.  But 


HAROLD  195 

Gurth  hath  not  the  deep  wit  of  these  tangled  times; 
and  Leofwine  is  too  light,  and  Tostig  too  fierce.  So 
wife  mine,  of  these  our  six  sons,  Harold  alone,  daunt- 
less as  Tostig,  mild  as  Gurth,  hath  his  father's  thought- 
ful brain.  And,  if  the  King  remains  as  aloof  as  now 
from  his  royal  kinsman,  Edward  the  Atheling,  who  " 
— the  Earl  hesitated  and  looked  round — "  who  so  near 
to  the  throne  when  I  am  no  more,  as  Harold,  the  joy 
of  the  ceorls,  and  the  pride  of  the  thegns? — he  whose 
tongue  never  falters  in  the  Witan,  and  whose  arm 
never  yet  hath  known  defeat  in  the  field?" 

Githa's  heart  swelled,  and  her  cheek  grew  flushed. 

"  But  what  I  fear  the  most,"  resumed  the  Earl,  "  is, 
not  the  enemy  without,  but  the  jealousy  within.  By 
the  side  of  Harold  stands  Tostig,  rapacious  to  grasp, 
but  impotent  to  hold — able  to  ruin,  strengthless  to 
save." 

"  Nay,  Godwin,  my  lord,  thou  wrongest  our  hand- 
some son." 

"  Wife,  wife,"  said  the  Earl,  stamping  his  foot,  "  hear 
me  and  obey  me;  for  my  words  on  earth  may  be  few, 
and  while  thou  gainsayest  me  the  blood  mounts  to  my 
brain,  and  my  eyes  see  through  a  cloud." 

"  Forgive  me,  sweet  lord,"  said  Githa,  humbly. 

"  Mickle  and  sore  it  repents  me  that  in  their  youth 
I  spared  not  the  time  from  my  worldly  ambition  to 
watch  over  the  hearts  of  my  sons;  and  thou  wert  too 
proud  of  the  surface  without,  to  look  well  to  the  work- 
ings within,  and  what  was  once  soft  to  the  touch  is 
now  hard  to  the  hammer.  In  the  battle  of  life  the 
arrows  we  neglect  to  pick  up,  Fate,  our  foe,  will  store 
in  her  quiver;  we  have  armed  her  ourselves  with  the 
shafts — the  more  need  to  be  ware  with  the  shield. 
Wherefore,  if  thou  survivest  me,  and  if,  as  I  forebode, 


196  HAROLD 

dissension  break  out  between  Harold  and  Tostig,  I 
charge  thee  by  memory  of  our  love,  and  reverence  foi 
my  grave,  to  deem  wise  and  just  all  that  Harold  deems 
just  and  wise.  For  when  Godwin  is  in  the  dust,  his 
House  lives  alone  in  Harold.  Heed  me  now,  and  heed 
ever.  And  so,  while  the  day  yet  lasts,  I  will  go  forth 
into  the  marts  and  the  guilds,  and  talk  with  the  bur- 
gesses, and  smile  on  their  wives,  and  be,  to  the  last, 
Godwin  the  smooth  and  the  strong." 

So  saying,  the  old  Earl  arose,  and  walked  forth  with 
a  firm  step;  and  his  old  hound  sprang  up,  pricked  its 
ears,  and  followed  him;  the  blinded  falcon  turned  its 
head  towards  the  clapping  door,  but  did  not  stir  from 
the  dossel. 

Then  Githa  again  leant  her  cheek  on  her  hand,  and 
again  rocked  herself  to  and  fro,  gazing  into  the  red 
flame  of  the  fire, — red  and  fitful  through  the  blue 
smoke, — and  thought  over  her  lord's  words.  It  might 
be  the  third  part  of  an  hour  after  Godwin  had  left  the 
house,  when  the  door  opened,  and  Githa,  expecting  the 
return  of  her  sons,  looked  up  eagerly,  but  it  was  Hilda, 
who  stooped  her  head  under  the  vault  of  the  door;  and 
behind  Hilda  came  two  of  her  maidens,  bearing  a  small 
cyst,  or  chest.  The  Vala  motioned  to  her  attendants 
to  lay  the  cyst  at  the  feet  of  Githa,  and  that  done,  with 
lowly  salutation  they  left  the  room. 

The  superstitions  of  the  Danes  were  strong  in  Githa; 
and  she  felt  an  indescribable  awe  when  Hilda  stood 
before  her,  the  red  light  playing  on  the  Vala's  stern 
marble  face,  and  contrasting  robes  of  funereal  black. 
But,  with  all  her  awe,  Githa,  who,  not  educated  like 
her  daughter  Edith,  had  few  feminine  resources,  loved 
the  visits  of  her  mysterious  kinswoman.  She  loved  to 
live  her  youth  over  again  in  discourse  on  the  wild  cus- 


HAROLD  197 

toms  and  dark  rites  of  the  Dane;  and  even  her  awe 
itself  had  the  charm  which  the  ghost  tale  has  to  the 
child; — for  the  illiterate  are  ever  children.  So,  re- 
covering her  surprise,  and  her  first  pause,  she  rose  to 
welcome  the  Vala,  and  said: 

"Hail,  Hilda,  and  thrice  hail!  The  day  has  been 
warm  and  the  way  long;  and,  ere  thou  takest  food  and 
wine,  let  me  prepare  for  thee  the  bath  for  thy  form,  or 
the  bath  for  thy  feet.  For  as  sleep  to  the  young,  is 
the  bath  to  the  old." 

Hilda  shook  her  head. 

"  Bringer  of  sleep  am  I,  and  the  baths  I  prepare  are 
in  the  halls  of  Valhalla.  Offer  not  to  the  Vala  the 
bath  for  mortal  weariness,  and  the  wine  and  the  food 
meet  for  human  guests.  Sit  thee  down,  daughter  of 
the  Dane,  and  thank  thy  new  gods  for  the  past  that 
hath  been  thine.  Not  ours  is  the  present,  and  the  fut- 
ure escapes  from  our  dreams;  but  the  past  is  ours 
ever,  and  all  eternity  cannot  revoke  a  single  joy  that 
the  moment  hath  known." 

Then  seating  herself  in  Godwin's  large  chair,  she 
leant  over  her  seid-staff,  and  was  silent,  as  if  absorbed 
in  her  thoughts. 

"Githa,"  she  said  at  last,  "where  is  thy  lord?  I 
came  to  touch  his  hands  and  to  look  on  his  brow." 

"  He  hath  gone  forth  into  the  mart,  and  my  sons  are 
from  home;  and  Harold  comes  hither,  ere  night,  from 
his  earldom." 

A  faint  smile,  as  of  triumph,  broke  over  the  lips  of 
the  Vala,  and  then  as  suddenly  yielded  to  an  expres- 
sion of  great  sadness. 

"  Githa,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  doubtless  thou  remem- 
berest  in  thy  young  days  to  have  seen  or  heard  of  the 
terrible  hell-maid  Belsta?" 


198  HAROLD 

"Ay,  ay,"  answered  Githa  shuddering;  "I  saw  her 
once  in  gloomy  weather,  driving  before  her  herds  of 
dark  grey  cattle.  Ay,  ay;  and  my  father  beheld  her 
ere  his  death,  riding  the  air  on  a  wolf,  with  a  snake  for 
a  bridle.  Why  askest  thou?" 

"  Is  it  not  strange,"  said  Hilda,  evading  the  ques- 
tion, "  that  Belsta,  and  Heidr,  and  Hulla  of  old,  the 
wolf-riders,  the  men-devourers,  could  win  to  the  utter- 
most secrets  of  galdra,  though  applied  only  to  pur- 
poses the  direst  and  fellest  to  man,  and  that  I,  though 
ever  in  the  future, — I,  though  tasking  the  Nornas  not 
to  afflict  a  foe,  but  to  shape  the  careers  of  those  I  love, 
— I  find,  indeed,  my  predictions  fulfilled;  but  how 
often,  alas !  only  in  horror  and  doom !  " 

"  How  so,  kinswoman,  how  so?  "  said  Githa,  awed 
yet  charmed  in  the  awe,  and  drawing  her  chair  nearer 
to  the  mournful  sorceress.  "  Didst  thou  not  foretell 
our  return  in  triumph  from  the  unjust  outlawry,  and, 
lo,  it  hath  come  to  pass?  and  hast  thou  not"  (here 
Githa's  proud  face  flushed)  "  foretold  also  that  my 
stately  Harold  shall  wear  the  diadem  of  a  king?  " 

"Truly,  the  first  came  to  pass,"  said  Hilda; 

"  but "  she  paused,  and  her  eye  fell  on  the  cyst ; 

then  breaking  off  she  continued,  speaking  to  herself 
rather  than  to  Githa — "  And  Harold's  dream,  what  did 
that  portend?  the  runes  fail  me,  and  the  dead  give  no 
voice.  And  beyond  one  dim  day,  in  which  his  be- 
trothed shall  clasp  him  with  the  arms  of  a  bride,  all  is 
dark  to  my  vision — dark — dark.  Speak  not  to  me, 
Githa;  for  a  burthen,  heavy  as  the  stone  on  a  grave, 
rests  on  a  weary  heart!" 

A  dead  silence  succeeded,  till,  pointing  with  her  staff 
to  the  fire,  the  Vala  said,  "  Lo,  where  the  smoke  and 
the  flame  contend — the  smoke  rises  in  dark  gyres  to 


HAROLD  199 

the  air,  and  escapes,  to  join  the  wrack  of  clouds. 
From  the  first  to  the  last  we  trace  its  birth  and  its 
fall;  from  the  heart  of  the  fire  to  the  descent  in  the- 
rain,  so  is  it  with  human  reason,  which  is  not  the  light 
but  the  smoke;  it  struggles  but  to  darken  us;  it  soars 
but  to  melt  in  the  vapour  and  dew.  Yet,  lo,  the  flame 
burns  in  our  hearth  till  the  fuel  fails,  and  goes  at  last, 
none  know  whither.  But  it  lives  in  the  air  though  we 
see  it  not;  it  lurks  in  the  stone  and  waits  the  flash  of 
the  steel ;  it  coils  round  the  dry  leaves  and  sere  stalks, 
and  a  touch  re-illumines  it;  it  plays  in  the  marsh — it 
collects  in  the  heavens — it  appals  us  in  the  lightning 
— it  gives  warmth  to  the  air — life  of  our  life,  and  the 
element  of  all  elements.  O  Githa,  the  flame  is  the 
light  of  the  soul,  the  element  everlasting;  and  it  liveth 
still,  when  it  escapes  from  our  view;  it  burneth  in  the 
shapes  to  which  it  passes;  it  vanishes,  but  it's  never 
extinct." 

So  saying,  the  Vala's  lips  again  closed;  and  again 
both  the  women  sate  silent  by  the  great  fire,  as  it 
flared  and  flickered  over  the  deep  lines  and  high  feat- 
ures of  Githa,  the  Earl's  wife,  and  the  calm,  un- 
wrinkled,  solemn  face  of  the  melancholy  Vala. 


CHAPTER   II 

While  these  conferences  took  place  in  the  house  of 
Godwin,  Harold,  on  his  way  to  London,  dismissed  his 
train  to  precede  him  to  his  father's  roof,  and,  striking 
across  the  country,  rode  fast  and  alone  towards  the 
old  Roman  abode  of  Hilda.  Months  had  elapsed  since 
he  had  seen  or  heard  of  Edith.  News  at  that  time,  I 
need  not  say,  was  rare  and  scarce,  and  limited  to  pub- 


200  HAROLD 

lie  events,  either  transmitted  by  special  nuncius  or 
passing  pilgrim,  or  borne  from  lip  to  lip  by  the  talk 
of  the  scattered  multitude.  But  even  in  his  busy  and 
anxious  duties,  Harold  had  in  vain  sought  to  banish 
from  his  heart  the  image  of  that  young  girl,  whose 
life  he  needed  no  Vala  to  predict  to  him  was  inter- 
woven with  the  fibres  of  his  own.  The  obstacles 
which,  while  he  yielded  to,  he  held  unjust  and  tyran- 
nical, obstacles  allowed  by  his  reluctant  reason  and 
his  secret  ambition — not  sanctified  by  conscience — 
only  inflamed  the  deep  strength  of  the  solitary  passion 
his  life  had  known;  a  passion  that,  dating  from  the 
very  childhood  of  Edith,  had,  often  unknown  to  him- 
self, animated  his  desire  of  fame,  and  mingled  with  his 
visions  of  power.  Nor,  though  hope  was  far  and  dim, 
was  it  extinct.  The  legitimate  heir  of  Edward  the 
Confessor  was  a  prince  living  in  the  Court  of  the  Em- 
peror, of  fair  repute,  and  himself  wedded;  and  Ed- 
ward's health,  always  precarious,  seemed  to  forbid  any 
very  prolonged  existence  to  the  reigning  king.  There- 
fore, he  thought  that  through  the  successor,  whose 
throne  would  rest  in  safety  upon  Harold's  support,  he 
might  easily  obtain  that  dispensation  from  the  Pope 
which  he  knew  the  present  king  would  never  ask — 
a  dispensation  rarely  indeed,  if  ever,  accorded  to  any 
subject,  and  which,  therefore,  needed  all  a  king's 
power  to  back  it. 

So  in  that  hope,  and  fearful  lest  it  should  be 
quenched  for  ever  by  Edith's  adoption  of  the  veil  and 
the  irrevocable  vow,  with  a  beating,  disturbed,  but 
joyful  heart  he  rode  over  field  and  through  forest  to 
the  old  Roman  house. 

He  emerged  at  length  to  the  rear  of  the  villa,  and 
the  sun,  fast  hastening  to  its  decline,  shone  full  upon 


HAROLD  201 

the  rude  columns  of  the  Druid  temple.  And  there,  as 
he  had  seen  her  before,  when  he  had  first  spoken  of 
love  and  its  barriers,  he  beheld  the  young  maiden. 

He  sprang  from  his  horse,  and  leaving  the  well- 
trained  animal  loose  to  browse  on  the  waste  land,  he 
ascended  the  knoll.  He  stole  noiselessly  behind  Edith, 
and  his  foot  stumbled  against  the  grave-stone  of  the 
dead  Titan-Saxon  of  old.  But  the  apparition,  whether 
real  or  fancied,  and  the  dream  that  had  followed,  had 
long  passed  from  his  memory,  and  no  superstition  was 
in  the  heart  springing  to  the  lips,  that  cried  "  Edith  " 
once  again. 

The  girl  started,  looked  round,  and  fell  upon  his 
breast. 

It  was  some  moments  before  she  recovered  con- 
sciousness, and  then,  withdrawing  herself  gently  from 
his  arms,  she  leant  for  support  against  the  Teuton 
altar. 

She  was  much  changed  since  Harold  had  seen  her 
last:  her  cheek  had  grown  pale  and  thin,  and  her 
rounded  form  seemed  wasted;  and  sharp  grief,  as  he 
gazed,  shot  through  the  soul  of  Harold. 

"  Thou  hast  pined,  thou  hast  suffered,"  said  he, 
mournfully:  "and  I,  who  would  shed  my  life's  blood 
to  take  one  from  thy  sorrows,  or  add  to  one  of  thy 
joys,  have  been  afar,  unable  to  comfort,  perhaps  only 
a  cause  of  thy  woe." 

"No,  Harold,"  said  Edith,  faintly,  "never  of  woe; 
always  of  comfort,  eyen  in  absence.  I  have  been  ill, 
and  Hilda  hath  tried  rune  and  charm  all  in  vain.  But 
I  am  better,  now  that  Spring  hath  come  tardily  forth, 
and  I  look  on  the  fresh  flowers,  and  hear  the  song  of 
the  birds." 

But  tears  were  in  the  sound  of  her  voice,  while  she 
spoke. 


202  HAROLD 

"  And  they  have  not  tormented  thee  again  with  the 
thoughts  of  the  convent?  " 

"They?  no; — but  my  soul,  yes.  O  Harold,  release 
me  from  my  promise;  for  the  time  already  hath  come 
that  thy  sister  foretold  to  me;  the  silver  cord  is  loos- 
ened, and  the  golden  bowl  is  broken,  and  I  would  fain 
take  the  wings  of  the  dove,  and  be  at  peace." 

"  Is  it  so  ? — Is  there  peace  in  the  home  where  the 
thought  of  Harold  becomes  a  sin?" 

"  Not  sin  then  and  there,  Harold,  not  sin.  Thy  sis- 
ter hailed  the  convent  when  she  thought  of  prayer  for 
those  she  loved." 

"  Prate  not  to  me  of  my  sister! "  said  Harold, 
through  his  set  teeth.  "  It  is  but  a  mockery  to  talk  of 
prayer  for  the  heart  that  thou  thyself  rendest  in  twain. 
Where  is  Hilda?  I  would  see  her." 

"She  hath  gone  to  thy  father's  house  with  a  gift; 
and  it  was  to  watch  for  her  return  that  I  sate  on  the 
green  knoll." 

The  Earl  then  drew  near  and  took  her  hand,  and 
sate  by  her  side,  and  they  conversed  long.  But  Harold 
saw  with  a  fierce  pang  that  Edith's  heart  was  set  upon 
the  convent,  and  that  even  in  his  presence,  and  de- 
spite his  soothing  words,  she  was  broken-spirited  and 
despondent.  It  seemed  as  if  her  youth  and  life  had 
gone  from  her,  and  the  day  had  come  in  which  she 
said,  "  There  is  no  pleasure." 

Never  had  he  seen  her  thus;  and,  deeply  moved  as 
well  as  keenly  stung,  he  rose  at  length  to  depart;  her 
hand  lay  passive  in  his  parting  clasp,  and  a  slight 
shiver  went  over  her  frame. 

**  Farewell,  Edith ;  when  I  return  from  Windshore, 
I  shall  be  at  my  old  home  yonder,  and  we  shall  meet 
again." 


HAROLD  203 

Edith's  lips  murmured  inaudibly,  and  she  bent  her 
eyes  to  the  ground. 

Slowly  Harold  regained  his  steed,  and  as  he  rode 
on,  he  looked  behind  and  waved  oft  his  hand.  But 
Edith  sate  motionless,  her  eyes  still  on  the  ground,  and 
he  saw  not  the  tears  that  fell  from  them  fast  and  burn- 
ing; nor  heard  he  the  low  voice  that  groaned  amidst 
the  heathen  ruins,  "  Mary,  sweet  mother,  shelter  me 
from  my  own  heart!" 

The  sun  had  set  before  Harold  gained  the  long  and 
spacious  abode  of  his  father.  All  around  it  lay  the 
roofs  and  huts  of  the  great  Earl's  special  tradesmen, 
for  even  his  goldsmith  was  but  his  freed  ceorl.  The 
house  itself  stretched  far  from  the  Thames  inland,  with 
several  low  courts  built  only  of  timber,  rugged  and 
shapeless,  but  filled  with  bold  men,  then  the  great  fur- 
niture of  a  noble's  halls. 

Amidst  the  shouts  of  hundreds,  eager  to  hold  his 
stirrup,  the  Earl  dismounted,  passed  the  swarming 
hall,  and  entered  the  room,  in  which  he  found  Hilda 
and  Githa,  and  Godwin,  who  had  preceded  his  entry 
but  a  few  minutes. 

In  the  beautiful  reverence  of  son  to  father,  which 
made  one  of  the  loveliest  features  of  the  Saxon  char- 
acter *  (as  the  frequent  want  of  it  makes  the  most  hate- 
ful of  the  Norman  vices),  the  all-powerful  Harold 
bowed  his  knee  to  the  old  Earl,  who  placed  his  hand 
on  his  head  in  benediction,  and  then  kissed  him  on 
the  cheek  and  brow. 

"  Thy  kiss,  too,  dear  mother,"  said  the  younger 
Earl;  and  Githa's  embrace,  if  more  cordial  than  her 
lord's,  was  not,  perhaps,  more  fond. 

1  The  chronicler,  however,  laments  that  the  household  ties, 
formerly  so  strong  with  the  Anglo-Saxon,  had  been  much 
weakened  in  the  age  prior  to  the  Conquest. 


204  HAROLD 

"  Greet  Hilda,  my  son,"  said  Godwin,  "  she  hath 
brought  me  a  gift,  and  she  hath  tarried  to  place  it 
under  thy  special  care.  Thou  alone  must  heed  the 
treasure,  and  open  the  casket.  But  when  and  where, 
my  kinswoman?" 

"  On  the  sixth  day  after  thy  coming  to  the  King's 
hall,"  answered  Hilda,  not  returning  the  smile  with 
which  Godwin  spoke, — "  on  the  sixth  day,  Harold, 
open  the  chest,  ,and  take  out  the  robe  which  hath  been 
spun  in  the  house  of  Hilda  for  Godwin  the  Earl.  And 
now,  Godwin,  I  have  clasped  thine  hand,  and  I  have 
looked  on  thy  brow,  and  my  mission  is  done,  and  I 
must  wend  homeward." 

"  That  shalt  thou  not,  Hilda,"  said  the  hospitable 
Earl;  "the  meanest  wayfarer  hath  a  right  to  bed  and 
board  in  this  house  for  a  night  and  a  day,  and  thou 
wilt  not  disgrace  us  by  leaving  our  threshold,  the 
bread  unbroken,  and  the  couch  unpressed.  Old 
friend,  we  were  young  together,  and  thy  face  is  wel- 
come to  me  as  the  memory  of  former  days." 

Hilda  shook  her  head,  and  one  of  those  rare,  and 
for  that  reason  most  touching,  expressions  of  tender- 
ness of  which  the  calm  and  rigid  character  of  her  feat- 
ures, when  in  repose,  seemed  scarcely  susceptible, 
softened  her  eye,  and  relaxed  the  firm  lines  of  her  lips. 

"  Son  of  Wolnoth,"  said  she,  gently,  "  not  under  thy 
roof-tree  should  lodge  the  raven  of  bode.  Bread  have 
I  not  broken  since  yestere'en,  and  sleep  will  be  far 
from  my  eyes  to-night.  Fear  not,  for  my  people  with- 
out are  stout  and  armed,  and  for  the  rest  there  lives 
not  the  man  whose  arm  can  have  power  over  Hilda." 

She  took  Harold's  hand  as  she  spoke,  and  leading 
him  forth,  whispered  in  his  ear,  "  I  would  have  a  word 
with  thee  ere  we  part."  Then,  reaching  the  thresh- 


HAROLD  205 

old,  she  waved  her  hand  thrice  over  the  floor,  and  mut- 
tered in  the  Danish  tongue  a  rude  verse,  which,  trans- 
lated, ran  -somewhat  thus : 

"  All  free  from  the  knot 

Glide  the  thread  of  the  skein, 
And  rest  to  the  labour, 
And  peace  to  the  pain !  " 

"  It  is  a  death-dirge,"  said  Githa,  with  whitening 
lips,  but  she  spoke  inly,  and  neither  husband  nor  son 
heard  her  words. 

Hilda  and  Harold  passed  in  silence  through  the  hall, 
and  the  Vala's  attendants,  with  spears  and  torches, 
rose  from  the  settles,  and  went  before  to  the  outer 
court,  where  snorted  impatiently  her  black  palfrey. 

Halting  in  the  midst  of  the  court,  she  said  to  Har- 
old, in  a  low  voice : 

"  At  sunset  we  part — at  sunset  we  shall  meet  again. 
And  behold,  the  star  rises  on  the  sunset;  and  the  star, 
broader  and  brighter,  shall  rise  on  the  sunset  then! 
When  thy  hand  draws  the  robe  from  the  chest,  think 
on  Hilda,  and  know  that  at  that  hour  she  stands  by 
the  grave  of  the  Saxon  warrior,  and  that  from  the 
grave  dawns  the  future.  Farewell  to  thee!" 

Harold  longed  to  speak  to  her  of  Edith,  but  a 
strange  awe  at  his  heart  chained  his  lips;  so  he  stood 
silent  by  the  great  wooden  gates  of  the  rude  house. 
The  torches  flamed  round  him,  and  Hilda's  face 
seemed  lurid  in  the  glare.  There  he  stood  musing 
long  after  torch  and  ceorl  had  passed  away,  nor  did 
he  wake  from  his  reverie  till  Gurth,  springing  from  his 
panting  horse,  passed  his  arm  round  the  Earl's  shoul- 
der, and  cried: 

"  How  did  I  miss  thee,  my  brother?  and  why  didst 
thou  forsake  thy  train?" 


206  HAROLD 

"  I  will  tell  thee  anon.  Gurth,  has  my  father  ailed? 
There  is  that  in  his  face  which  I  like  not." 

"  He  hath  not  complained  of  misease,"  said  Gurth, 
startled;  "  hut  now  thou  speakest  of  it,  his  mood  hath 
altered  of  late,  and  he  hath  wandered  much  alone,  or 
only  with  the  old  hound  and  the  old  falcon." 

Then  Harold  turned  back,  and,  his  heart  was  full; 
and,  when  he  reached  the  house,  his  father  was  sitting 
in  the  hall  on  his  chair  of  state;  and  Githa  sate  on  his 
right  hand,  and  a  little  below  her  sate  Tostig  and  Leof- 
wine,  who  had  come  in  from  the  bear-hunt  by  the 
river-gate,  and  were  talking  loud  and  merrily;  and 
thegns  and  cnehts  sate  all  around,  and  there  was  was- 
sail as  Harold  entered.  But  the  Earl  looked  only  to 
his  father,  and  he  saw  that  his  eyes  were  absent  from 
the  glee,  and  that  he  was  bending  his  head  over  the 
old  falcon,  which  sate  on  his  wrist. 


CHAPTER   III 

No  subject  of  England,  since  the  race  of  Cerdic 
sate  on  the  throne,  ever  entered  the  court-yard  of 
Windshore  with  such  train  and  such  state  as  Earl  God- 
win.— Proud  of  that  first  occasion,  sinc£  his  return,  to 
do  homage  to  him  with  whose  cause  that  of  England 
against  the  stranger  was  bound,  all  truly  English  at 
heart  amongst  the  thegns  of  the  land  swelled  his  ret- 
inue. Whether  Saxon  or  Dane,  those  who  alike  loved 
the  laws  and  the  soil,  came  from  north  and  from  south 
to  the  peaceful  banner  of  the  old  Earl.  But  most  of 
these  were  of  the  past  generation,  for  the  rising  race 
were  still  dazzled  by  the  pomp  of  the  Norman;  and 
the  fashion  of  English  manners,  and  the  pride  in  Eng- 


HAROLD  207 

lish  deeds,  had  gone  out  of  date  with  long  locks  and 
bearded  chins.  Nor  there  were  the  bishops  and  ab- 
bots and  the  lords  of  the  Church, — for  dear  to  them 
already  the  fame  of  the  Norman  piety,  and  they  shared 
the  distaste  of  their  holy  King  to  the  strong  sense 
and  homely  religion  of  Godwin,  who  founded  no  con- 
vents, and  rode  to  war  with  no  relics  round  his  neck. 
But  they  with  Godwin  were  the  stout  and  the  frank 
and  the  free,  in  whom  rested  the  pith  and  marrow  of 
English  manhood;  and  they  who  were  against  him 
were  the  blind  and  willing  and  fated  fathers  of  slaves 
unborn. 

Not  then  the  stately  castle  we  now  behold,  which 
is  of  the  masonry  of  a  prouder  race,  nor  on  the  same 
site,  but  two  miles  distant  on  the  winding  of  the  river 
shore  (whence  it  took  its  name),  a  rude  building 
partly  of  timber  and  partly  of  Roman  brick,  adjoin- 
ing a  large  monastery  and  surrounded  by  a  small 
hamlet,  constituted  the  palace  of  the  saint-king. 

So  rode  the  Earl  and  his  four  fair  sons,  all  abreast, 
into  the  court-yard  of  Windshore.1  Now  when  King 
Edward  heard  the  tramp  of  the  steeds  and  the  hum 
of  the  multitudes,  as  he  sate  in  his  closet  with  his  ab- 
bots and  priests,  all  in  still  contemplation  of  the  thumb 
of  St.  Jude,  the  King  asked: 

"  What  army,  in  the  day  of  peace,  and  the  time  of 
Easter,  enters  the  gates  of  our  palace?" 

Then  an  abbot  rose  and  looked  out  of  the  narrow 
window,  and  said  with  a  groan: 

1  Some  authorities  .state  Winchester  as  the  scene  of  these 
memorable  festivities.  Old  Windsor  Castle  is  supposed  by 
Mr.  Lysons  to  have  occupied  the  site  of  a  farm  of  Mr.  Isher- 
wood's  surrounded  by  a  moat,  about  two  miles  distant  from 
New  Windsor.  He  conjectures  that  it  was  still  occasionally 
inhabited  by  the  Norman  kings  till  mo.  The  ville  surround- 
ing it  only  contained  ninety-five  houses,  paying  gabcl-tax,  in 
the  Norman  survey- 


208  HAROLD 

"Army  thou  mayst  well  call  it,  O  King! — and  foes 
to  us  and  to  thee  head  the  legions " 

"  Inprinis,"  quoth  our  abbot  the  scholar;  "thou 
speakest,  I  trow,  of  the  wicked  Earl  and  his  sons." 

The  King's  face  changed.  "  Come  they,"  said  he, 
"with  so  large  a  train?  This  smells  more  of  vaunt 
than  of  loyalty;  naught — very  naught." 

"  Alack!  "  said  one  of  the  conclave,  "  I  fear  me  that 
the  men  of  Belial  will  work  us  harm;  the  heathen  are 
mighty,  and " 

"  Fear  not,"  said  Edward,  with  benign  loftiness, 
observing  that  his  guests  grew  pale,  and  himself, 
though  often  weak  to  childishness,  and  morally  waver- 
ing and  irresolute, — still  so  far  king  and  gentleman, 
that  he  knew  no  craven  fear  of  the  body.  "  Fear  not 
for  me,  my  fathers;  humble  as  I  am,  I  am  strong 
in  the  faith  of  heaven  and  its  angels." 

The  Churchmen  looked  at  each  other,  sly  yet 
abashed;  it  was  not  precisely  for  the  King  that  they 
feared. 

Then  spoke  Aired,  the  good  prelate  and  constant 
peacemaker — fair  column  and  lone  one  of  the  fast- 
crumbling  Saxon  Church.  "  It  is  ill  in  you,  brethren, 
to  arraign  the  truth  and  good  meaning  of  those  who 
honour  your  King;  and  in  these  days  that  lord  should 
ever  be  the  most  welcome  who  brings  to  the  halls  of 
his  king  the  largest  number  of  hearts,  stout  and  leal." 

"  By  your  leave,  brother  Aired,"  said  Stigand,  who, 
though  from  motives  of  policy  he  had  aided  those 
who  besought  the  King  not  to  peril  his  crown  by 
resisting  the  return  of  Godwin,  benefited  too  largely 
by  the  abuses  of  the  Church  to  be  sincerely  espoused 
to  the  cause  of  the  strong-minded  Earl;  "By  your 
leave,  brother  Aired,  to  every  leal  heart  is  a  ravenous 


HAROLD  209 

mouth;  and  the  treasures  of  the  King  are  wellnigh 
drained  in  feeding  these  hungry  and  welcomeless  visi- 
tors. Durst  I  counsel  my  lord  I  would  pray  him,  as 
a  matter  of  policy,  to  baffle  this  astute  and  proud  Earl. 
He  would  fain  have  the  King  feast  in  public,  that  he 
might  daunt  him  and  the  Church  with  the  array  of 
his  friends." 

"  I  conceive  thee,  my  father,"  said  Edward,  with 
more  quickness  than  habitual,  and  with  the  cunning, 
sharp  though  guileless,  that  belongs  to  minds  unde- 
veloped, "  I  conceive  thee ;  it  is  good  and  most  politic. 
This  our  orgulous  Earl  shall  not  have  his  triumph, 
and,  so  fresh  from  his  exile,  brave  his  King  with  the 
mundane  parade  of  his  power.  Our  health  is  our  ex- 
cuse for  our  absence  from  the  banquet,  and,  sooth  to 
say,  we  marvel  much  why  Easter  should  be  held  a 
fitting  time  for  feasting  and  mirth.  Wherefore,  Hugo- 
line,  my  chamberlain,  advise  the  Earl  that  to-day  we 
keep  fast  till  the  sunset,  when  temperately,  with  eggs, 
bread,  and  fish,  we  will  sustain  Adam's  nature.  Pray 
him  and  his  sons  to  attend  us — they  alone  be  our 
guests."  And  with  a  sound  that  seemed  a  laugh,  or 
the  ghost  of  a  laugh,  low  and  chuckling — for  Edward 
had  at  moments  an  innocent  humour  which  his  monk- 
ish biographer  disdained  not  to  note,1 — he  flung  him- 
self back  in  his  chair.  The  priests  took  the  cue,  and 
shook  their  sides  heartily,  as  Hugoline  left  the  room, 
not  ill  pleased,  by  the  way,  to  escape  an  invitation  to 
the  eggs,  bread,  and  fish. 

Aired  sighed;  and  said,  "  For  the  Earl  and  his  sons, 
this  is  honour;  but  the  other  earls,  and  the  thegns, 
will  miss  at  the  banquet  him  whom  they  design  but  to 
honour,  and " 

1  AILRED,  de  V\t.  Edward.  Confess. 
VOL.  I.— M 


210  HAROLD 

"  I  have  said,"  interrupted  Edward,  drily,  and  with 
a  look  of  fatigue. 

"  And,"  observed  another  Churchman,  with  malice, 
"  at  least  the  young  Earls  will  be  humbled,  for  they 
will  not  sit  with  the  King  and  their  father,  as  they 
would  in  the  Hall,  and  must  serve  my  lord  with 
napkin  and  wine." 

"  Inprinis"  quoth  our  scholar  the  abbot,  "  that  will 
be  rare!  I  would  I  were  by  to  see.  But  this  Godwin 
is  a  man  of  treachery  and  wile,  and  my  lord  should 
beware  of  the  fate  of  murdered  Alfred,  his  brother!  " 

The  King  started,  and  pressed  his  hands  to  his  eyes. 

"  How  darest  thou,  Abbot  Fatchere,"  cried  Aired, 
indignantly;  "  How  darest  thou  revive  grief  with- 
out remedy,  and  slander  without  proof?  " 

"  Without  proof? "  echoed  Edward,  in  a  hollow 
voice.  "  He  who  could  murder,  could  well  stoop  to 
forswear!  Without  proof  before  man;  but  did  he  try 
the  ordeals  of  God? — did  his  feet  pass  the  plough- 
share?— did  his  hand  grasp  the  seething  iron?  Verily, 
verily,  thou  didst  wrong  to  name  to  me  Alfred  my 
brother!  I  shall  see  his  sightless  and  gore-dropping 
sockets  in  the  face  of  Godwin,  this  day,  at  my  board." 

The  King  rose  in  great  disorder;  and,  after  pacing 
the  room  some  moments,  disregardful  of  the  silent 
and  scared  looks  of  his  Churchmen,  waved  his  hand, 
in  sign  to  them  to  depart.  All  took  the  hint  at  once 
save  Aired;  but  he,  lingering  the  last,  approached  the 
King  with  dignity  in  his  step  and  compassion  in  his 
eyes. 

"  Banish  from  thy  breast,  O  King  and  son,  thoughts 
unmeet,  and  of  doubtful  charity!  All  that  man  could 
know  of  Godwin's  innocence  or  guilt — the  suspicion 
of  the  vulgar — the  acquittal  of  his  peers — was  known 


HAROLD  211 

to  thee  before  thou  didst  seek  his  aid  for  thy  throne, 
and  didst  take  his  child  for  thy  wife.  Too  Jate  is  it 
now  to  suspect;  leave  thy  doubts  to  the  solemn  day, 
which  draws  nigh  to  the  old  man,  thy  wife's  father!  " 

"  Ha! "  said  the  king,  seeming  not  to  heed,  or  wil- 
fully to  misunderstand  the  prelate,  "  Ha!  leave  him  to 
God;— I  will!" 

He  turned  away  impatiently;  and  the  prelate  reluc- 
tantly departed. 

CHAPTER  IV 

Tostig  chafed  mightily  at  the  King's  message;  and, 
on  Harold's  attempt  to  pacify  him,  grew  so  violent 
that  nothing  short  of  the  cold  stern  command  of  his 
father,  who  carried  with  him  that  weight  of  authority 
never  known  but  to  those  in  whom  wrath  is  still  and 
passion  noiseless,  imposed  sullen  peace  on  his  son's 
rugged  nature.  But  the  taunts  heaped  by  Tostig 
upon  Harold  disquieted  the  old  Earl,  and  his  brow 
was  yet  sad  with  prophetic  care  when  he  entered  the 
royal  apartments.  He  had  been  introduced  into  the 
King's  presence  but  a  moment  before  Hugoline  led 
the  way  to  the  chamber  of  repast,  and  the  greeting 
between  King  and  Earl  had  been  brief  and  formal. 

Under  the  canopy  of  state  were  placed  but  two 
chairs,  for  the  King  and  the  Queen's  father;  and  the 
four  sons,  Harold,  Tostig,  Leofwine,  and  Gurth,  stood 
behind.  Such  was  the  primitive  custom  of  ancient 
Teutonic  kings;  and  the  feudal  Norman  monarchs  only 
enforced,  though  with  more  pomp  and  more  rigour, 
the  ceremonial  of  the  forest  patriarchs — youth  to  wait 
on  age,  and  the  ministers  of  the  realm  on  those  whom 
their  policy  had  made  chiefs  in  council  and  war. 


212  HAROLD 

The  Earl's  P'ind,  already  embittered  by  the  scene 
with  his  sons,  was  chafed  yet  more  by  the  King's  un- 
loving coldness;  for  it  is  natural  to  man,  however 
worldly,  to  feel  affection  for  those  he  has  served,  and 
Godwin  had  won  Edward  his  crown;  nor,  despite  his 
warlike  though  bloodless  return,  could  even  monk  or 
Norman,  in  counting  up  the  old  Earl's  crimes,  say 
that  he  had  ever  failed  in  personal  respect  to  the  King 
he  had  made;  nor  over-great  for  subject,  as  the  Earl's 
power  must  be  confessed,  will  historian  now  be  found 
to  say  that  it  had  not  been  well  for  Saxon  England 
if  Godwin  had  found  more  favour  with  his  King,  and 
monk  and  Norman  less.1 

So  the  old  Earl's  stout  heart  was  stung,  and  he 
looked  from  those  deep,  impenetrable  eyes,  mourn- 
fully upon  Edward's  chilling  brow. 

And  Harold,  with  whom  all  household  ties  were 
strong,  but  to  whom  his  great  father  was  especially 
dear,  watched  his  face  and  saw  that  it  was  very  flushed. 
But  the  practised  courtier  sought  to  rally  his  spirits, 
and  to  smile  and  jest. 

From  smile  and  jest,  the  King  turned  and  asked  for 
wine.  Harold,  starting,  advanced  with  the  goblet;  as 
he  did  so,  he  stumbled  with  one  foot,  but  lightly  re- 
covered himself  with  the  other;  and  Tostig  laughed 
scornfully  at  Harold's  awkwardness. 

The  old  Earl  observed  both  stumble  and  laugh,  and 
willing  to  suggest  a  lesson  to  both  his  sons,  said1 — 

1 "  Is  it  astonishing,"  asked  the  people  (referring  to  Ed- 
ward's preference  of  the  Normans),  "that  the  author  and 
support  of  Edward's  reign  should  be  indignant  at  seeing  new 
men  from  a  foreign  nation  raised  above  him,  and  yet  never 
does  he  utter  one  harsh  word  to  the  man  whom  he  himself 
created  king?" — HAZLITT'S  THIERRY,  vol.  i.  p.  126. 

This  is  the  English  account  (versus  the  Norman).  There 
can  be  little  doubt  that  it  is  the  true  one. 


HAROLD  213 

laughing  pleasantly — "  Lo,  Harold,  how  the  left  foot 
saves  the  right ! — so  one  brother,  thou  seest,  helps  the 
other!"1 

King  Edward  looked  up  suddenly. 

"  And  so,  Godwin,  also,  had  my  brother  Alfred 
helped  me,  hadst  thou  permitted." 

The  old  Earl,  galled  to  the  quick,  gazed  a  moment 
on  the  King,  and  his  cheek  was  purple,  and  his  eyes 
seemed  bloodshot. 

"  O  Edward!  "  he  exclaimed,  "  thou  speakest  to  me 
hardly  and  unkindly  of  thy  brother  Alfred,  and  often 
hast  thou  thus  more  than  hinted  that  I  caused  his 
death." 

The  King  made  no  answer. 

"  May  this  crumb  of  bread  choke  me,"  said  the 
Earl,  in  great  emotion,  "  if  I  am  guilty  of  thy  brother's 
blood!"2 

But  scarcely  had  the  bread  touched  his  lips,  when 
his  eyes  fixed,  the  long  warning  symptoms  were  ful- 
filled. And  he  fell  to  the  ground,  under  the  table, 
sudden  and  heavy,  smitten  by  the  stroke  of  apoplexy. 

Harold  and  Gurth  sprang  forward;  they  drew  their 
father  from  the  ground.  His  face,  still  deep-red  with 
streaks  of  purple,  rested  on  Harold's  breast;  and  the 
son,  kneeling,  called  in  anguish  on  his  father:  the  ear 
was  deaf. 

Then  said  the  King,  rising: 

"  It  is  the  hand  of  God:  remove  him!  "  and  he  swept 
from  the  room,  exulting. 

1  Henry  of  Huntingdon,  &c. 

2  Henry  of  Huntingdon ;   Bromt.  Chron.,  &c. 


214  HAROLD 

CHAPTER  V 

For  five  days  and  five  nights  did  Godwin  lie  speech- 
less.1 And  Harold  watched  over  him  night  and  day. 
And  the  leaches  2  would  not  bleed  him,  because  the 
season  was  against  it,  in  the  increase  of  the  moon  and 
the  tides;  but  they  bathed  his  temples  with  wheat  flour 
boiled  in  milk,  according  to  a  prescription  which  an 
angel  in  a  dream  3  had  advised  to  another  patient ;  and 
they  placed  a  plate  of  lead  on  his  breast,  marked  with 
five  crosses,  saying  a  paternoster  over  each  cross;  to- 
gether with  other  medical  specifics  in  great  esteem.4 
But,  nevertheless,  five  days  and  five  nights  did  God- 
win lie  speechless;  and  the  leaches  then  feared  that 
human  skill  was  in  vain. 

The  effect  produced  on  the  court,  not  more  by  the 
Earl's  death-stroke  than  the  circumstances  preceding 
it,  was  such  as  defies  description.  With  Godwin's 
old  comrades  in  arms  it  was  simple  and  honest  grief; 
but  with  all  those  under  the  influence  of  the  priests, 
the  event  was  regarded  as  a  direct  punishment  from 
Heaven.  The  previous  words  of  the  King,  repeated 
by  Edward  to  his  monks,  circulated  from  lip  to  lip, 
with  sundry  exaggerations  as  it  travelled:  and  the 
superstition  of  the  day  had  the  more  excuse,  inasmuch 
as  the  speech  of  Godwin  touched  near  upon  the  de- 
fiance of  one  of  the  most  popular  ordeals  of  the  ac- 
cused,— viz.  that  called  the  "  corsned,"  in  which  a 
piece  of  bread  was  given  to  the  supposed  criminal; 

1  Hoveden. 

2  The  origin  of  the  word  leach  (physician),  which  has  puz- 
zled some  inquirers,  is  from  lich  or  leac,  a  body.    Lcich  is  the 
old  Saxon  word  for  surgeon. 

3  Sharon  Turner,  vol.  i.  p.  472. 

4  Fosbrooke. 


HAROLD  215 

if  he  swallowed  it  with  ease  he  was  innocent ;  if  it  stuck 
in  his  throat,  or  choked  him,  nay,  if  he  shook  and 
turned  pale,  he  was  guilty.  Godwin's  words  had  ap- 
peared to  invite  the  ordeal,  God  had  heard  and 
stricken  down  the  presumptuous  perjurer! 

Unconscious,  happily,  of  these  attempts  to  blacken 
the  name  of  his  dying  father,  Harold,  towards  the  grey 
dawn  succeeding  the  fifth  night,  thought  that  he  heard 
Godwin  stir  in  his  bed.  So  he  put  aside  the  curtain, 
and  bent  over  him.  The  old  Earl's  eyes  were  wide 
open,  and  the  red  colour  had  gone  from  his  cheeks, 
so  that  he  was  pale  as  death. 

"  How  fares  it,  dear  father  ?  "  asked  Harold. 

Godwin  smiled  fondly,  and  tried  to  speak,  but  his 
voice  died  in  a  convulsive  rattle.  Lifting  himself  up, 
however,  with  an  effort,  he  pressed  tenderly  the  hand 
that  clasped  his  own,  leant  his  head  on  Harold's  breast, 
and  so  gave  up  the  ghost. 

When  Harold  was  at  last  aware  that  the  struggle 
was  over,  he  laid  the  grey  head  gently  on  the  pillow; 
he  closed  the  eyes,  and  kissed  the  lips,  and  knelt 
down  and  prayed.  Then,  seating  himself  at  a  little 
distance,  he  covered  his  face  with  his  mantle. 

At  this  time  his  brother  Gurth,  who  had  chiefly 
shared  watch  with  Harold, — for  Tostig,  foreseeing  his 
father's  death,  was  busy  soliciting  thegn  and  earl  to 
support  his  own  claims  to  the  earldom  about  to  be 
vacant;  and  Leofwine  had  gone  to  London  on  the  pre- 
vious day  to  summon  Githa  who  was  hourly  expected 
— Gurth,  I  say,  entered  the  room  on  tiptoe,  and  seeing 
his  brother's  attitude,  guessed  that  all  was  over.  He 
passed  on  to  the  table,  took  up  the  lamp,  and  looked 
long  on  his  father's  face.  That  strange  smile  of  the 
dead,  common  alike  to  innocent  and  guilty,  had  al- 


216  HAROLD 

ready  settled  on  the  serene  lips;  and  that  no  less 
strange  transformation  from  age  to  youth,  when  the 
wrinkles  vanish,  and  the  features  come  out  clear  and 
sharp  from  the  hollows  of  care  and  years,  had  already 
begun.  And  the  old  man  seemed  sleeping  in  his 
prime. 

So  Gurth  kissed  the  dead,  as  Harold  had  done  be- 
fore him,  and  came  up  and  sate  himself  by  his  broth- 
er's feet,  and  rested  his  head  on  Harold's  knee;  nor 
would  he  speak  till,  appalled  by  the  long  silence  of  the 
Earl,  he  drew  away  the  mantle  from  his  brother's  face 
with  a  gentle  hand,  and  the  large  tears  were  rolling 
down  Harold's  cheeks. 

"  Be  soothed,  my  brother,"  said  Gurth;  "  our  father 
has  lived  for  glory,  his  age  was  prosperous,  and  his 
years  more  than  those  which  the  Psalmist  allots  to 
man.  Come  and  look  on  his  face,  Harold;  its  calm 
will  comfort  thee." 

Harold  obeyed  the  hand  that  led  him  like  a  child; 
in  passing  towards  the  bed,  his  eye  fell  upon  the  cyst 
which  Hilda  had  given  to  the  old  Earl,  and  a  chill  shot 
through  his  veins. 

"  Gurth,"  said  he,  "  is  not  this  the  morning  of  the 
sixth  day  in  which  we  have  been  at  the  King's 
Court?" 

"  It  is  the  morning  of  the  sixth  day." 

Then  Harold  took  forth  the  key  which  Hilda  had 
given  him,  and  unlocked  the  cyst,  and  there  lay  the 
white  winding-sheet  of  the  dead,  and  a  scroll.  Harold 
took  the  scroll,  and  bent  over  it,  reading  by  the  min- 
gled light  of  the  lamp  and  the  dawn  : 

"  All  hail,  Harold,  heir  of  Godwin  the  great,  and 
Githa  the  king-born!  Thou  hast  obeyed  Hilda,  and 
thou  knowest  now  that  Hilda's  eyes  read  the  future, 


HAROLD  217 

and  her  lips  speak  the  dark  words  of  truth.  Bow  thy 
heart  to  the  Vala,  and  mistrust  the  wisdom  that  sees 
only  the  things  of  the  daylight.  As  the  valour  of  the 
warrior  and  the  song  of  the  scald,  so  is  the  lore  of  the 
prophetess.  It  is  not  of  the  body,  it  is  soul  within 
soul;  it  marshals  events  and  men,  like  the  valour — it 
moulds  the  air  into  substance,  like  the  song.  Bow  thy 
heart  to  the  Vala.  Flowers  bloom  over  the  grave  of 
the  dead.  And  the  young  plant  soars  high,  when  the 
king  of  the  woodland  lies  low!  " 


CHAPTER  VI 

The  sun  rose,  and  the  stairs  and  passages  without 
were  filled  with  the  crowds  that  pressed  to  hear  news 
of  the  Earl's  health.  The  doors  stood  open,  and 
Gurth  led  in  the  multitude  to  look  their  last  on  the 
hero  of  council  and  camp,  who  had  restored  with 
strong  hand  and  wise  brain  the  race  of  Cerdic  to 
the  Saxon  throne.  Harold  stood  by  the  bed-head 
silent,  and  tears  were  shed  and  sobs  were  heard.  And 
many  a  thegn  who  had  before  half  believed  in  the  guilt 
of  Godwin  as  the  murderer  of  Alfred,  whispered  in 
gasps  to  his  neighbour: 

"  There  is  no  weregeld  for  manslaying  on  the  head 
of  him  who  smiles  so  in  death  on  his  old  comrades  in 
life!" 

Last  of  all  lingered  Leofric,  the  great  Earl  of  Mer- 
cia;  and  when  the  rest  had  departed,  he  took  the  pale 
hand,  that  lay  heavy  on  the  coverlid,  in  his  own, 
and  said: 

"  Old  foe,  often  stood  we  in  Witan  and  field  against 
each  other;  but  few  are  the  friends  for  whom  Leofric 


218  HAROLD 

would  mourn  as  he  mourns  for  thee.  Peace  to  thy 
soul!  Whatever  its  sins,  England  should  judge  thee 
mildly,  for  England  beat  in  each  pulse  of  thy  heart, 
and  with  thy  greatness  was  her  own!  " 

Then  Harold  stole  round  the  bed,  and  put  his  arms 
round  Leofric's  neck,  and  embraced  him.  The  good 
old  Earl  was  touched,  and  he  laid  his  tremulous  hands 
on  Harold's  brown  locks  and  blessed  him. 

"  Harold,"  he  said,  "  thou  succeedest  to  thy  father's 
power:  let  thy  father's  foes  be  thy  friends.  Wake 
from  thy  grief,  for  thy  country  now  demands  thee, — 
the  honour  of  thy  House,  and  the  memory  of  the  dead. 
Many  even  now  plot  against  thee  and  thine.  Seek  the 
King,  demand  as  thy  right  thy  father's  earldom,  and 
Leofric  will  back  thy  claim  in  the  Witan." 

Harold  pressed  Leofric's  hand,  and  raising  it  to  his 
lips  replied:  "  Be  our  Houses  at  peace  henceforth  and 
for  ever." 

Tostig's  vanity  indeed  misled  him,  when  he  dreamed 
that  any  combination  of  Godwin's  party  could  meditate 
supporting  his  claims  against  the  popular  Harold — 
nor  less  did  the  monks  deceive  themselves,  when  they 
supposed  that,  with  Godwin's  death,  the  power  of  his 
family  would  fall. 

There  was  more  than  even  the  unanimity  of  the 
chiefs  of  the  Witan,  in  favour  of  Harold ;  there  was  that 
universal  noiseless  impression  throughout  all  Eng- 
land, Danish  and  Saxon,  that  Harold  was  now  the  sole 
man  on  whom  rested  the  state — which,  whenever  it 
so  favours  one  individual,  is  irresistible.  Nor  was  Ed- 
ward himself  hostile  to  Harold,  whom  alone  of  that 
House,  as  we  have  before  said,  he  esteemed  and  loved, 

Harold  was  at  once  named  Earl  of  Wessex;  and  re- 
linquishing the  earldom  he  held  before,  he  did  not  hesi- 


HAROLD  219 

tate  as  to  the  successor  to  be  recommended  in  his 
place.  Conquering  all  jealousy  and  dislike  for  Algar, 
he  united  the  strength  of  his  party  in  favour  of  the 
son  of  Leofric,  and  the  election  fell  upon  him.  With 
all  his  hot  errors,  the  claims  of  no  other  Earl,  whether 
from  his  own  capacities  or  his  father's  services,  were 
so  strong;  and  his  election  probably  saved  the  state 
from  a  great  danger,  in  the  results  of  that  angry  mood 
and  that  irritated  ambition  with  which  he  had  thrown 
himself  into  the  arms  of  England's  most  valiant  ag- 
gressor, Gryffyth,  King  of  North  Wales. 

To  outward  appearance,  by  this  election,  the  House 
of  Leofric — uniting  in  father  and  son  the  two  mighty 
districts  of  Mercia  and  the  East  Anglians — became 
more  powerful  than  that  of  Godwin;  for,  in  that  last 
House,  Harold  was  now  the  only  possessor  of  one  of 
the  great  earldoms,  and  Tostig  and  the  other  brothers 
had  no  other  provision  beyond  the  comparatively  in- 
significant lordships  they  held  before.  But  if  Harold 
had  ruled  no  earldom  at  all,  he  had  still  been  immeas- 
urably the  first  man  in  England — so  great  was  the 
confidence  reposed  in  his  valour  and  wisdom.  He  was 
of  that  height  in  himself,  that  he  needed  no  pedestal 
to  stand  on. 

The  successor  of  the  first  great  founder  of  a  House 
succeeds  to  more  than  his  predecessor's  power,  if  he 
but  know  how  to  wield  and  maintain  it.  For  who 
makes  his  way  to  greatness  without  raising  foes  at 
every  step?  and  who  ever  rose  to  power  supreme,  with- 
out grave  cause  for  blame?  But  Harold  stood  free 
from  the  enmities  his  father  had  provoked,  and  pure 
from  the  stains  that  slander  or  repute  cast  upon  his 
father's  name.  The  sun  of  the  yesterday  had  shone 
through  cloud ;  the  sun  of  the  day  rose  in  a  clear  firma- 


220  HAROLD 

ment.  Even  Tostig  recognised  the  superiority  of  his 
brother;  and  after  a  strong  struggle  between  baffled 
rage  and  covetous  ambition,  yielded  to  him,  as  to  a 
father.  He  felt  that  all  Godwin's  House  was  centred 
in  Harold  alone;  and  that  only  from  his  brother  (de- 
spite his  own  daring  valour  and  despite  his  alliance 
with  the  blood  of  Charlemagne  and  Alfred,  through 
the  sister  of  Matilda,  the  Norman  duchess,)  could  his 
avarice  of  power  be  gratified. 

"  Depart  to  thy  home,  my  brother,"  said  Earl  Har- 
old, to  Tostig,  "  and  grieve  not  that  Algar  is  preferred 
to  thee.  For,  even  had  his  claim  been  less  urgent,  ill 
would  it  have  beseemed  us  to  arrogate  the  lordships 
of  all  England  as  our  dues.  Rule  thy  lordship  with 
wisdom:  gain  the  love  of  thy  lithsmen.  High  claims 
hast  thou  in  our  father's  name,  and  moderation  now 
will  but  strengthen  thee  in  the  season  to  come.  Trust 
on  Harold  somewhat,  on  thyself  more.  Thou  hast  but 
to  add  temper  and  judgment  to  valour  and  zeal,  to  be 
worthy  mate  of  the  first  earl  in  England.  Over  my 
father's  corpse  I  embraced  my  father's  foe.  Between 
brother  and  brother  shall  there  not  be  love,  as  the  best 
bequest  of  the  dead?" 

"  It  shall  not  be  my  fault,  if  there  be  not,"  answered 
Tostig,  humbled  though  chafed.  And  he  summoned 
his  men  and  returned  to  his  domains. 


CHAPTER   VII 

Fair,  broad,  and  calm  set  the  sun  over  the  western 
woodlands.  Hilda  stood  on  the  mount,  and  looked 
with  undazzled  eyes  on  the  sinking  orb.  Beside  her, 
Edith  reclined  on  the  sward,  and  seemed  with  idle 
hand  tracing  characters  in  the  air.  The  girl  had 


HAROLD  221 

grown  paler  still,  since  Harold  last  parted  from  her 
on  the  same  spot,  and  the  same  listless  and  despondent 
apathy  stamped  her  smileless  lips  and  her  bended 
head. 

"  See,  child  of  my  heart,"  said  Hilda,  addressing 
Edith,  while  she  still  gazed  on  the  western  luminary, 
"  see,  the  sun  goes  down  to  the  far  deeps,  where  Rana 
and  ./Egir  *  watch  over  the  worlds  of  the  sea;  but  with 
morning  he  comes  from  the  halls  of  the  Asas — the 
golden  gates  of  the  East — and  joy  comes  in  his  train. 
And  yet  thou  thinkest,  sad  child,  whose  years  have 
scarce  passed  into  woman,  that  the  sun,  once  set,  never 
comes  back  to  life.  But  even  while  we  speak,  thy 
morning  draws  near,  and  the  dunness  of  cloud  takes 
the  hues  of  the  rose! " 

Edith's  hand  paused  from  its  vague  employment, 
and  fell  droopingly  on  her  knee; — she  turned  with  an 
unquiet  and  anxious  eye  to  Hilda,  and  after  looking 
some  moments  wistfully  at  the  Vala,  the  colour  rose 
to  her  cheek,  and  she  said  in  a  voice  that  had  an  ac- 
cent half  of  anger: 

"Hilda,  thou  art  cruel!" 

"  So  is  Fate!  "  answered  the  Vala.  "  But  men  call 
not  Fate  cruel  when  it  smiles  on  their  desires.  Why 
callest  thou  Hilda  cruel,  when  she  reads  in  the  set- 
ting sun  the  runes  of  thy  coming  joy!  " 

"  There  is  no  joy  for  me,"  returned  Edith,  plaintive- 
ly; "and  I  have  that  on  my  heart,"  she  added,  with 
a  sudden  and  almost  fierce  change  of  tone,  "  which  at 

1  2Eg\r,  the  Scandinavian  god  of  the  ocean.  Not  one  of  the 
Aser,  or  Asas  (the  celestial  race),  but  sprung  from  the  giants. 
Ran  or  Rana,  his  wife,  a  more  malignant  character,  who  caused 
shipwrecks,  and  drew  to  herself,  by  a  net,  all  that  fell  into  the 
sea.  The  offspring  of  this  marriage  were  nine  daughters,  who 
became  the  Billows,  the  Currents,  and  the  Storms. 


222  HAROLD 

last  I  will  dare  to  speak.  I  reproach  thee,  Hilda,  that 
thou  hast  marred  all  my  life,  that  thou  hast  duped 
me  with  dreams,  and  left  me  alone  in  despair." 

"  Speak  on,"  said  Hilda,  calmly,  as  a  nurse  to  a 
froward  child. 

"  Hast  thou  not  told  me,  from  the  first  dawn  of  my 
wondering  reason,  that  my  life  and  lot  were  interwoven 
with — with  (the  word,  mad  and  daring,  must  out) — 
with  those  of  Harold  the  peerless?  But  for  that,  which 
my  infancy  took  from  thy  lips  as  a  law,  I  had  never 
been  so  vain  and  so  frantic!  I  had  never  watched 
each  play  of  his  face,  and  treasured  each  word  from 
his  lips;  I  had  never  made  my  life  but  part  of  his  life 
• — all  my  soul  but  the  shadow  of  his  sun.  But  for  that, 
I  had  hailed  the  calm  of  the  cloister — but  for  that,  I 
had  glided  in  peace  to  my  grave.  And  now — now, 
O  Hilda — "  Edith  paused,  and  that  break  had  more 
eloquence  than  any  words  she  could  command. 
"  And,"  she  resumed  quickly,  "  thou  knowest  that 
these  hopes  were  but  dreams — that  the  law  ever  stood 
between  him  and  me — and  that  it  was  guilt  to  love 
him." 

"  I  knew  the  law,"  answered  Hilda,  "  but  the  law  of 
fools  is  to  the  wise  as  the  cobweb  swung  over  the 
brake  to  the  wing  of  the  bird.  Ye  are  sibbe  to  each 
other,  some  five  times  removed;  and  therefore  an  old 
man  at  Rome  saith  that  ye  ought  not  to  wed.  When 
the  shavelings  obey  the  old  man  at  Rome,  and  put 
aside  their  own  wives  and  frillas,1  and  abstain  from 

1  Frilla,  the  Danish  word  for  a  lady  who,  often  with  the 
wife's  consent,  was  added  to  the  domestic  circle  by  the  hus- 
band. The  word  is  here  used  by  Hilda  in  a  general  sense  of 
reproach.  Both  marriage  and  concubinage  were  common 
amongst  the  Anglo-Saxon  priesthood,  despite  the  unheeded 
canons;  and  so,  indeed,  they  were  with  the  French  clergy. 


HAROLD  223 

the  wine  cup,  and  tne  chase,  and  the  brawl,  I  will  stoop 
to  hear  of  their  laws, — with  disrelish  it  may  be,  but 
without  scorn.1  It  is  no  sin  to  love  Harold;  and  no 
monk  and  no  law  shall  prevent  your  union  on  the  day 
appointed  to  bring  ye  together,  form  and  heart." 

"Hilda!  Hilda!  madden  me  not  with  joy,"  cried 
Edith,  starting  up  in  rapturous  emotion,  her  young 
face  dyed  with  blushes,  and  all  her  renovated  beauty 
so  celestial  that  Hilda  herself  was  almost  awed,  as  if 
by  the  vision  of  Freya,  the  northern  Venus,  charmed 
by  a  spell  from  the  halls  of  Asgard. 

"  But  that  day  is  distant,"  renewed  the  Vala. 

"What  matters!  what  matters!"  cried  the  pure 
child  of  Nature;  "I  ask  but  hope.  Enough, — oh! 
enough,  if  we  were  but  wedded  on  the  borders  of  the 
grave ! " 

"  Lo,  then,"  said  Hilda,  "  behold,  the  sun  of  thy 
life  dawns  again !  " 

As  she  spoke,  the  Vala  stretched  her  arm,  and 
through  the  intersticed  columns  of  the  fane,  Edith  saw 
the  large  shadow  of  a  man  cast  over  the  still  sward. 
Presently  into  the  space  of  the  circle  came  Harold,  her 
beloved.  His  face  was  pale  with  grief  yet  recent;  but, 
perhaps,  more  than  ever,  dignity  was  in  his  step  and 
command  on  his  brow,  for  he  felt  that  now  alone  with 
him  rested  the  might  of  Saxon  England.  And  what 
royal  robe  so  invests  with  imperial  majesty  the  form 
of  a  man  as  the  grave  sense  of  power  responsible,  in 
an  earnest  soul? 

"  Thou  comest,"  said  Hilda,  "  in  the  hour  I  pre- 
dicted; at  the  setting  of  the  sun  and  the  rising  of  the 
star." 

1  Hilda,  not  only  as  a  heathen,  but  as  a  Dane,  would  be  no 
favourer  of  monks ;  they  were  unknown  in  Denmark  at  that 
time,  and  the  Danes  held  them  in  odium. — Ord.  Vital.,  lib.  vii. 


224  HAROLD 

"  Vala,"  said  Harold,  gloomily,  "  I  will  not  oppose 
my  sense  to  thy  prophecies;  for  who  shall  judge  of 
that  power  of  which  he  knows  not  the  elements?  or 
despise  the  marvel  of  which  he  cannot  detect  the  im- 
'  posture?  But  leave  me,  I  pray  thee,  to  walk  in  the 
broad  light  of  the  common  day.  These  hands  are 
made  to  grapple  with  things  palpable,  and  these  eyes 
to  measure  the  forms  that  front  my  way.  In  my 
youth,  I  turned  in  despair  or  disgust  from  the  subtle- 
ties of  the  schoolmen,  which  split  upon  hairs  the  brains 
of  Lombard  and  Frank;  in  my  busy  and  stirring  man- 
hood entangle  me  not  in  the  meshes  which  confuse 
all  my  reason,  and  sicken  my  waking  thoughts  into 
dreams  of  awe.  Mine  be  the  straight  path  and  the 
plain  goal ! " 

The  Vala  gazed  on  him  with  an  earnest  look,  that 
partook  of  admiration,  and  yet  more  of  gloom ;  but  she 
spoke  not,  and  Harold  resumed: 

"  Let  the  dead  rest,  Hilda, — proud  names  with 
glory  on  earth  and  shadows  escaped  from  our  ken,  sub- 
missive to  mercy  in  heaven.  A  vast  chasm  have  my 
steps  overleapt  since  we  met,  O  Hilda — sweet  Edith; 
a  vast  chasm,  but  a  narrow  grave."  His  voice  fal- 
tered a  moment,  and  again  he  renewed, — "  Thou 
weepest,  Edith;  ah,  how  thy  tears  console  me!  Hilda, 
hear  me!  I  love  thy  grandchild — loved  her  by  irre- 
sistible instinct  since  her  blue  eyes  first  smiled  on 
mine.  I  loved  her  in  her  childhood,  as  in  her  youth 
— in  the  blossom  as  in  the  flower.  And  thy  grand- 
child loves  me.  The  laws  of  the  Church  proscribe  our 
marriage,  and  therefore  we  parted;  but  I  feel,  and 
thine  Edith  feels,  that  the  love  remains  as  strong  in 
absence:  no  other  will  be  her  wedded  lord,  no  other 
my  wedded  wife.  Therefore,  with  heart  made  soft  by 


HAROLD  225 

sorrow,  and,  in  my  father's  death,  sole  lord  of  my  fate, 
I  return,  and  say  to  thee  in  her  presence,  '  Suffer  us 
to  hope  still ! '  The  day  may  come  when  under  some 
king  less  enthralled  than  Edward  by  formal  Church 
laws,  we  may  obtain  from  the  Pope  absolution  for  our 
nuptials — a  day,  perhaps,  far  off;  but  we  are  both 
young,  and  love  is  strong  and  patient:  we  can  wait." 
"O  Harold,"  exclaimed  Edith,  "we  can  wait!" 
"  Have  I  not  told  thee,  son  of  Godwin,"  said  the 
Vala,  solemnly,  "  that  Edith's  skein  of  life  was  inwoven 
with  thine?  Dost  thou  deem  that  my  charms  have 
not  explored  the  destiny  of  the  last  of  my  race?  Know 
that  it  is  in  the  decrees  of  the  fates  that  ye  are  to  be 
united,  never  more  to  be  divided.  Know  that  there 
shall  come  a  day,  though  I  can  see  not  its  morrow,  and 
it  lies  dim  and  afar,  which  shall  be  the  most  glorious 
of  thy  life,  and  on  which  Edith  and  fame  shall  be  thine, 
— the  day  of  thy  nativity,  on  which  hitherto  all  things 
have  prospered  with  thee.  In  vain  against  the  stars 
preach  the  mone  and  the  priest:  what  shall  be,  shall 
be.  Wherefore,  take  hope  and  joy,  O  Children  of 
Time!  And  now,  as  I  join  your  hands,  I  betroth  your 
souls." 

Rapture  unalloyed  and  unprophetic,  born  of  love 
deep  and  pure,  shone  in  the  eyes  of  Harold,  as  he 
clasped  the  hand  of  his  promised  bride.  But  an  in- 
voluntary and  mysterious  shudder  passed  over  Edith's 
frame,  and  she  leant  close,  close,  for  support  upon 
Harold's  breast.  And,  as  if  by  a  vision,  there  rose 
distinct  in  her  memory  a  stern  brow,  a  form  of  power 
and  terror — the  brow  and  the  form  of  him  who  but 
once  again  in  her  waking  life  th'e  Prophetess  had  told 
her  she  should  behold.  The  vision  passed  away  in 
the  warm  clasp  of  those  protecting  arms;  and  looking 
VOL.  I.— is 


226  HAROLD 

up  into  Harold's  face,  she  there  beheld  the  mighty  and 
deep  delight  that  transfused  itself  at  once  into  her  own 
soul. 

Then  Hilda,  placing  one  hand  over  their  heads,  and 
raising  the  other  towards  heaven,  all  radiant  with  burst- 
ing stars,  said  in  her  deep  and  thrilling  tones: 

"  Attest  the  betrothal  of  these  young  hearts,  O  ye 
Powers  that  draw  nature  to  nature  by  spells  which  no 
galdra  can  trace,  and  have  wrought  in  the  secrets  of 
creation  no  mystery  so  perfect  as  love, — Attest  it,  thou 
temple,  thou  altar! — attest  it,  O  sun  and  O  air!  While 
the  forms  are  divided,  may  the  souls  cling  together — 
sorrow  with  sorrow,  and  joy  with  joy.  And  when,  at 
length,  bride  and  bridegroom  are  one, — O  stars,  may 
the  trouble  with  which  ye  are  charged  have  exhausted 
its  burthen;  may  no  danger  molest,  and  no  malice  dis- 
turb, but,  over  the  marriage-bed,  shine  in  peace,  O  ye 
stars!" 

Up  rose  the  moon.  May's  nightingale  called  its 
mate  from  the  breathless  boughs;  and  so  Edith  and 
Harold  were  betrothed  by  the  grave  of  the  son  of  Cer- 
dic.  And  from  the  line  of  Cerdic  had  come,  since 
Ethelbert,  all  the  Saxon  kings  who  with  sword  and 
with  sceptre  had  reigned  over  Saxon  England. 


BOOK   VI 

AMBITION 

CHAPTER    I 

There  was  great  rejoicing  in  England.  King  Ed- 
ward had  been  induced  to  send  Aired  the  prelate  * 
to  the  court  of  the  German  Emperor,  for  his  kinsman 
and  namesake,  Edward  Atheling,  the  son  of  the  great 
Ironsides.  In  his  childhood,  this  Prince,  with  his 
brother  Edmund,  had  been  committed  by  Canute  to 
the  charge  of  his  vassal,  the  King  of  Sweden;  and  it 
has  been  said  (though  without  sufficient  authority), 
that  Canute's  design  was,  that  they  should  be  secretly 
made  away  with.  The  King  of  Sweden,  however,  for- 
warded the  children  to  the  court  of  Hungary;  they 
were  there  honourably  reared  and  received.  Edmund 
died  young,  without  issue.  Edward  married  a  daugh- 
ter of  the  German  Emperor,  and  during  the  commo- 
tions in  England,  and  the  successive  reigns  of  Harold 
Harefoot,  Hardicanute,  and  the  Confessor,  had  re- 
mained forgotten  in  his  exile,  until  now  suddenly  re- 
called to  England  as  the  heir  presumptive  of  his  child- 
less namesake.  He  arrived  with  Agatha  his  wife,  one 
infant  son,  Edgar,  and  two  daughters,  Margaret  and 
Christina. 

Great  were  the  rejoicings.  The  vast  crowd  that  had 
followed  the  royal  visitors  in  their  procession  to  the 

1  Chron.  Knyghton. 
"7 


228  HAROLD 

old  London  palace  (not  far  from  St.  Paul's)  in  which 
they  were  lodged,  yet  swarmed  through  the  streets, 
when  two  thegns  who  had  personally  accompanied  the 
Atheling  from  Dover,  and  had  just  taken  leave  of  him, 
now  emerged  from  the  palace,  and  with  some  difficulty 
made  their  way  through  the  crowded  streets. 

The  one  in  the  dress  and  short  hair  imitated  from 
the  Norman,  was  our  old  friend  Godrith,  whom  the 
reader  may  remember  as  the  rebuker  of  Taillefer,  and 
the  friend  of  Mallet  de  Graville;  the  other,  in  a  plain 
linen  Saxon  tunic,  and  the  gonna  worn  on  state  occa- 
sions, to  which  he  seemed  unfamiliar,  but  with  heavy 
gold  bracelets  on  his  arms,  long  haired  and  bearded, 
was  Vebba,  the  Kentish  thegn,  who  had  served  as 
nuncius  from  Godwin  to  Edward. 

"Troth  and  faith!"  said  Vebba,  wiping  his  brow, 
"  this  crowd  is  enow  to  make  plain  man  stark  wode. 
I  would  not  live  in  London  for  all  the  gauds  in  the 
goldsmith's  shops,  or  all  the  treasures  in  King  Ed- 
ward's vaults.  My  tongue  is  as  parched  as  a  hay- 
field  in  the  weyd-month.1  Holy  Mother  be  blessed! 
I  see  a  Cumcn-hus  2  open ;  let  us  in  and  refresh  our- 
selves with  a  horn  of  ale." 

"  Nay,  friend,"  quoth  Godrith,  with  a  slight  dis- 
dain, "  such  are  not  the  resorts  of  men  of  our  rank. 
Tarry  yet  awhile,  till  we  arrive  near  the  bridge  by  the 
river-side;  there,  indeed,  you  will  find  worthy  company 
and  dainty  cheer." 

"  Well,  well,  I  am  at  your  hest,  Godrith,"  said  the 
Kent  man,  sighing;  "  my  wife  and  my  sons  will  be  sure 
to  ask  me  what  sights  I  have  seen,  and  I  may  as  well 
know  from  thee  the  last  tricks  and  ways  of  this  hurly- 
burly  town." 

1  Weyd-month.    Meadow  month,  June. 
3  Cumen-hus.     Tavern. 


HAROLD  229 

Godrith,  who  was  master  of  all  the  fashions  in  the 
reign  of  our  lord  King  Edward,  smiled  graciously,  and 
the  two  proceeded  in  silence,  only  broken  by  the 
sturdy  Kent  man's  exclamations;  now  of  anger  when 
rudely  jostled,  now  of  wonder  and  delight  when,  amidst 
the  throng,  he  caught  sight  of  a  gleeman,  with  his  bear 
or  monkey,  who  took  advantage  of  some  space  near 
convent  garden,  or  Roman  ruin,  to  exhibit  his  craft;  till 
they  gained  a  long  low  row  of  booths,  most  pleasantly 
situated  to  the  left  of  this  side  London  bridge,  and 
which  was  appropriated  to  the  celebrated  cookshops, 
that  even  to  the  time  of  Fitzstephen  retained  their  fame 
and  their  fashion. 

Between  the  shops  and  the  river  was  a  space  of 
grass  worn  brown  and  bare  by  the  feet  of  the  custom- 
ers, with  a  few  clipped  trees  with  vines  trained  from 
one  to  the  other  in  arcades,  under  cover  of  which  were 
set  tables  and  settles.  The  place  was  thickly  crowded, 
and  but  for  Godrith's  popularity  amongst  the  attend- 
ants, they  might  have  found  it  difficult  to  obtain 
accommodation.  However,  a  new  table  was  soon 
brought  forth,  placed  close  by  the  cool  margin  of  the 
water,  and  covered  in  a  trice  with  tankards  of  hippo- 
eras,  pigment,  ale,  and  some  Gascon,  as  well  as  Brit- 
ish wines:  varieties  of  the  delicious  cake-bread  for 
which  England  was  then  renowned;  while  viands, 
strange  to  the  honest  eye  and  taste  of  the  wealthy 
Kent  man,  were  served  on  spits. 

"  What  bird  is  this?  "  said  he,  grumbling. 

"  O  enviable  man,  it  is  a  Phrygian  attagen  *  that 

thou  art  about  to  taste  for  the  first  time;  and  when 

thou  hast  recovered  that  delight,  I  commend  to  thee 

a  Moorish  compound,  made  of  eggs  and  roes  of  carp 

1  Fitzstephen. 


230  HAROLD 

from  the  old  Southweorc  stewponds,  which  the  cooks 
here  dress  notably." 

"Moorish! — Holy  Virgin!"  cried  Vebba,  with  his 
mouth  full  of  the  Phrygian  attagen,  "  how  came  any- 
thing Moorish  in  our  Christian  island?  " 

Godrith  laughed  outright. 

"Why,  our  cook  here  is  Moorish;  the  best  singers 
in  London  are  Moors.  Look  yonder!  see  those  grave 
comely  Saracens!  " 

"  Comely,  quotha,  burnt  and  black  as  a  charred 
pine-pole!"  grunted  Vebba;  "well,  who  are  they?" 

"Wealthy  traders;  thanks  to  whom,  our  pretty 
maids  have  risen  high  in  the  market."  1 

"  More  the  shame,"  said  the  Kent  man;  "that  sell- 
ing of  English  youth  to  foreign  masters,  whether  male 
or  female,  is  a  blot  on  the  Saxon  name." 

"  So  saith  Harold  our  Earl,  and  so  preach  the 
monks,"  returned  Godrith.  "  But  thou,  my  good 
friend,  who  art  fond  of  all  things  that  our  ancestors 
did,  and  hast  sneered  more  than  once  at  my  Norman 
robe  and  cropped  hair,  thou  shouldst  not  be  the  one 
to  find  fault  with  what  our  fathers  have  done  since  the 
days  of  Cerdic." 

"  Hem,"  said  the  Kent  man,  a  little  perplexed,  "  cer- 
tainly old  manners  are  the  best,  and  I  suppose  there  is 
some  good  reason  for  this  practice,  which  I,  who  never 
trouble  myself  about  matters  that  concern  me  not,  do 
not  see." 

"  Well,  Vebba,  and  how  likest  thou  the  Atheling? 
he  is  of  the  old  line,"  said  Godrith. 

Again  the  Kent  man  looked  perplexed,  and  had  re- 

1  William  of  Malmesbury  speaks  with  just  indignation  of 
the  Anglo-Saxon  custom  of  selling  female  servants,  either  to 
public  prostitution,  or  foreign  slavery. 


HAROLD  231 

course  to  the  ale,  which  he  preferred  to  all  more  deli- 
cate liquor,  before  he  replied: 

"  Why,  he  speaks  English  worse  than  King  Ed- 
ward! and  as  for  his  boy  Edgar,  the  child  can  scarce 
speak  English  at  all.  And  then  their  German  carles 
and  cnehts! — An  I  had  known  what  manner  of  folk 
they  were,  I  had  not  spent  my  manatses  in  running 
from  my  homestead  to  give  them  the  welcome.  But 
they  told  me  that  Harold  the  good  Earl  had  made  the 
King  send  for  them:  and  whatever  the  Earl  coun- 
selled must,  I  thought,  be  wise,  and  to  the  weal  of 
sweet  England." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  Godrith  with  earnest  emphasis, 
for,  with  all  his  affectation  of  Norman  manners,  he 
was  thoroughly  English  at  heart,  and  now  among  the 
staunchest  supporters  of  Harold,  who  had  become  no 
less  the  pattern  and  pride  of  the  young  nobles  than 
the  darling  of  the  humbler  population, — "  that  is  true 
— and  Harold  showed  us  his  noble  English  heart  when 
he  so  urged  the  King  to  his  own  loss." 

As  Godrith  thus  spoke,  nay,  from  the  first  mention 
of  Harold's  name,  two  men  richly  clad,  but  with  their 
bonnets  drawn  far  over  their  brows,  and  their  long 
gonnas  so  worn  as  to  hide  their  forms,  who  were 
seated  at  a  table  behind  Godrith  and  had  thus  es- 
caped his  attention,  had  paused  from  their  wine-cups, 
and  they  now  listened  with  much  earnestness  to  the 
conversation  that  followed. 

"  How  to  the  Earl's  loss?  "  asked  Vebba. 

"  Why,  simple  thegn,"  answered  Godrith,  "  why, 
suppose  that  Edward  had  refused  to  acknowledge  the 
Atheling  as  his  heir,  suppose  the  Atheling  had  re- 
mained in  the  German  court,  and  our  good  King  died 
suddenly, — who,  thinkest  thou,  could  succeed  to  the 
English  throne?" 


232  HAROLD 

"  Marry,  I  have  never  thought  of  that  at  all,"  said 
the  Kent  man,  scratching  his  head. 

"No,  nor  have  the  English  generally;  yet  whom 
could  we  choose  but  Harold?  " 

A  sudden  start  from  one  of  the  listeners  was 
checked  by  the  warning  finger  of  the  other;  and  the 
Kent  man  exclaimed: 

"Body  o'  me!  But  we  have  never  chosen  king 
(save  the  Danes)  out  of  the  line  of  Cerdic.  These  be 
new  cranks,  with  a  vengeance;  we  shall  be  choosing 
German,  or  Saracen,  or  Norman  next !  " 

"  Out  of  the  line  of  Cerdic!  but  that  line  is  gone, 
root  and  branch,  save  the  Atheling,  and  he  thou  seest 
is  more  German  than  English.  Again  I  say,  failing 
the  Atheling,  whom  could  we  choose  but  Harold, 
brother-in-law  to  the  King:  descended  through  Githa 
from  the  royalties  of  the  Norse,  the  head  of  all  armies 
under  the  Herr-ban,  the  chief  who  has  never  fought 
without  victory,  yet  who  has  always  preferred  con- 
ciliation to  conquest — the  first  counsellor  in  the  Witan 
— the  first  man  in  the  realm — who  but  Harold?  answer 
me,  staring  Vebba?  " 

"  I  take  in  thy  words  slowly,"  said  the  Kent  man, 
shaking  his  head,  "  and  after  all,  it  matters  little  who 
is  king,  so  he  be  a  good  one.  Yes,  I  see  now  that  the 
Earl  was  a  just  and  generous  man  when  he  made  the 
King  send  for  the  Atheling.  Drink-hsel!  long  life  to 
them  both !  " 

"  Was-hsel,"  answered  Godrith,  draining  his  hippo- 
eras  to  Vebba's  more  potent  ale.  "  Long  life  to  them 
both!  may  Edward  the  Atheling  reign,  but  Harold  the 
Earl  rule!  Ah,  then,  indeed,  we  may  sleep  without 
fear  of  fierce  Algar  and  still  fiercer  Gryffyth  the  Wal- 
loon— who  now,  it  is  true,  are  stilled  for  the  moment, 


HAROLD  233 

thanks  to  Harold — but  not  more  still  than  the  smooth 
waters  in  Gwyned,  that  lie  just  above  the  rush  of  a 
torrent." 

"  So  little  news  hear  I,"  said  Vebba,  "  and  in  Kent 
so  little  are  we  plagued  with  the  troubles  elsewhere, 
(for  there  Harold  governs  us,  and  the  hawks  come  not 
where  the  eagles  hold  eyrie!) — that  I  will  thank  thee 
to  tell  me  something  about  our  old  Earl  for  a  year,1 
Algar  the  restless,  and  this  Gryffyth  the  Welch  King, 
so  that  I  may  seem  a  wise  man  when  I  go  back  to  my 
homestead." 

"  Why,  thou  knowest  at  least  that  Algar  and  Harold 
were  ever  opposed  in  the  W'itan,  and  hot  words  thou 
hast  heard  pass  between  them!" 

"Marry,  yes!  But  Algar  was  as  little  match  for 
Earl  Harold  in  speech  as  in  sword  play." 

Now  again  one  of  the  listeners  started,  (but  it  was 
not  the  same  as  the  one  before,)  and  muttered  an 
angry  exclamation. 

"  Yet  is  he  a  troublesome  foe,"  said  Godrith,  who 
did  not  hear  the  sound  Vebba  had  provoked,  "  and  a 
thorn  in  the  side  both  of  the  Earl  and  of  England ;  and 
sorrowful  for  both  England  and  Earl  was  it,  that  Har- 
old refused  to  marry  Aldyth,  as  it  is  said  his  father, 
wise  Godwin,  counselled  and  wished." 

"  Ah !  but  I  have  heard  scops  and  harpers  sing 
pretty  songs  that  Harold  loves  Edith  the  Fair,  a  won- 
drous proper  maiden,  they  say !  " 

"  It  is  true;  and  for  the  sake  of  his  love,  he  played 
ill  for  his  ambition." 

"  I  like  him  the  better  for  that,"  said  the  honest 

1  It  will  be  remembered  that  Algar  governed  Wessex,  which 
principality  included  Kent,  during  the  year  of  Godwin's  out- 
lawry. 


234  HAROLD 

Kent  man:  "  why  does  he  not  marry  the  girl  at  once? 
she  hath  broad  lands,  I  know,  for  they  run  from  the 
Sussex  shore  into  Kent." 

"  But  they  are  cousins  five  times  removed,  and  the 
Church  forbids  the  marriage;  nevertheless  Harold 
lives  only  for  Edith;  they  have  exchanged  the  true- 
lofa,1  and  it  is  whispered  that  Harold  hopes  the  Athel- 
ing,  when  he  comes  to  be  King,  will  get  him  the  Pope's 
dispensation.  But  to  return  to  Algar;  in  a  day  most 
unlucky  he  gave  his  daughter  to  Gryffyth,  the  most 
turbulent  sub-king  the  land  ever  knew,  who,  it  is  said, 
will  not  be  content  till  he  has  won  all  Wales  for  himself 
without  homage  or  service,  and  the  Marches  to  boot. 
Some  letters  between  him  and  Earl  Algar,  to  whom 
Harold  had  secured  the  earldom  of  the  East  Angles, 
were  discovered,  and  in  a  Witan  at  Winchester  thou 
wilt  doubtless  have  heard,  (for  thou  didst  not,  I  know, 
leave  thy  lands  to  attend  it,)  that  Algar 2  was  out' 
lawed." 

1  Trulofa,  from  which  comes  our  popular  corruption  "  true 
lover's  knot ;  "  a  veiere  Danico  trulofa,  i.e.,  fidem  do,  to  pledge 
faith. — HICKE'S  Thesaur. 

"  A  knot,  among  the  ancient  northern  nations,  seems  to  have 
been  the  emblem  of  love,  faith,  and  friendship." — BRANDE'S 
Pop.  Antiq. 

2  The  Saxon  Chronicle  contradicts  itself  as  to  Algar's  out- 
lawry, stating  in  one  passage  that  he  was  outlawed  without 
any   kind  of  guilt,  and  in  another  that  he  was  outlawed  as 
swikc,  or  traitor,  and  that  he  made  a  confession  of  it  before 
all  the  men  there  gathered.     His  treason,  however,  seems  nat- 
urally occasioned  by  his  close  connection  with  Gryffyth,  and 
proved  by  his  share  in  that  King's  rebellion.     Some  of  our 
historians   have  unfairly  assumed   that  his   outlawry   was   at 
Harold's  instigation.     Of  this  there  is  not  only  no  proof,  but 
one  of  the  best  authorities  among  the  chroniclers  says  just  the 
contrary — that  Harold  did  all  he  could  to  intercede  for  him ; 
and  it  is  certain  that  he  was  fairly  tried  and  condemned  by 
the  Witan,  and  afterwards  restored  by  the  concurrent  articles 
of  agreement  between  Harold  and  Leofric.     Harold's  policy 
with  his  own  countrymen  stands  out  very  markedly  prominent 
in  the  annals  of  the  time ;   it  was  invariably  that  of  conciliation. 


HAROLD  235 

"Oh,  yes,  these  are  stale  tidings;  I  heard  thus 
much  from  a  palmer — and  then  Algar  got  ships  from 
the  Irish,  sailed  to  North  Wales,  and  beat  Rolf,  the 
Norman  Earl,  at  Hereford.  Oh,  yes,  I  heard  that, 
and,"  added  the  Kent  man,  laughing,  "  I  was  not  sorry 
to  hear  that  my  old  Earl  Algar,  since  he  is  a  good  and 
true  Saxon,  beat  the  cowardly  Norman, — more  shame 
to  the  King  for  giving  a  Norman  the  ward  of  the 
Marches!  " 

"  It  was  a  sore  defeat  to  the  King  and  to  England," 
said  Godrith,  gravely.  "  The  great  Minster  of  Here- 
ford built  by  King  Athelstan  was  burned  and  sacked 
by  the  Welch;  and  the  crown  itself  was  in  danger, 
when  Harold  came  up  at  the  head  of  the  Fyrd.  Hard 
is  it  to  tell  the  distress  and  the  marching  and  the 
camping,  and  the  travail,  and  destruction  of  men,  and 
also  of  horses,  which  the  English  endured  *  till  Harold 
came;  and  then  luckily  came  also  the  good  old  Leof- 
ric,  and  Bishop  Aired  the  peacemaker,  and  so  strife 
was  patched  up — Gryffyth  swore  oaths  of  faith  to 
King  Edward,  and  Algar  was  inlawed;  and  there  for 
the  nonce  rests  the  matter  now.  But  well  I  ween  that 
Gryffyth  will  never  keep  troth  with  the  English,  and 
that  no  hand  less  strong  than  Harold's  can  keep  in 
check  a  spirit  as  fiery  as  Algar's:  therefore  did  I  wish 
that  Harold  might  be  King." 

"  Well,"  quoth  the  honest  Kent  man,  "  I  hope, 
nevertheless,  that  Algar  will  sow  his  wild  oats,  and 
leave  the  Walloons  to  grow  the  hemp  for  their  own 
halters;  for,  though  he  is  not  of  the  height  of  our  Har- 
old, he  is  a  true  Saxon,  and  we  liked  him  well  enow 
when  he  ruled  us.  And  how  is  our  Earl's  brother 
Tostig  esteemed  by  the  Northmen?  It  must  be  hard 
1  Saxon  Chron.,  verbatim. 


236  HAROLD 

to  please  those  who  had  Siward  of  the  strong  arm  for 
their  Earl  before.''' 

"  Why,  at  first,  when  (at  Siward's  death  in  the  wars 
for  young  Malcolm)  Harold  secured  to  Tostig  the 
Northumbrian  earldom,  Tostig  went  by  his  brother's 
counsel,  and  ruled  well  and  won  favour.  Of  late  I 
hear  that  the  Northmen  murmur.  Tostig  is  a  man 
indeed  dour  and  haughty." 

After  a  few  more  questions  and  answers  on  the  news 
of  the  day,  Vebba  rose  and  said : 

"  Thanks  for  thy  good  fellowship;  it  is  time  for  me 
now  to  be  jogging  homeward.  I  left  my  ceorls  and 
horses  Qn  the  other  side  the  river,  and  must  go  after 
them.  And  now  forgive  me  my  bluntness,  fellow- 
thegn,  but  ye  young  courtiers  have  plenty  of  need  for 
your  mancuses,  and  when  a  plain  countryman  like  me 
comes  sight-seeing,  he  ought  to  stand  payment ;  where- 
fore," here  he  took  from  his  belt  a  great  leathern  purse, 
"  wherefore,  as  these  outlandish  birds  and  heathenish 
puddings  must  be  dear  fare — " 

"How!"  said  Godrith,  reddening,  "  thinkest  thou 
so  meanly  of  us  thegns  of  Middlesex  as  to  deem  we 
cannot  entertain  thus  humbly  a  friend  from  a  distance? 
Ye  Kent  men  I  know  are  rich.  But  keep  your  pen- 
nies to  buy  stuffs  for  your  wife,  my  friend." 

The  Kent  man,  seeing  he  had  displeased  his  com- 
panion, did  not  press  his  liberal  offer, — put  up  his 
purse,  and  suffered  Godrith  to  pay  the  reckoning. 
Then,  as  the  two  thegns  shook  hands,  he  said: 

"  But  I  should  like  to  have  said  a  kind  word  or  so 
to  Earl  Harold — for  he  was  too  busy  and  too  great 
for  me  to  come  across  him  in  the  old  palace  yonder. 
I  have  a  mind  to  go  back  and  look  for  him  at  his  own 
house." 


HAROLD  237 

"  You  will  not  find  him  there,"  said  Godrith,  "  for  I 
know  that  as  soon  as  he  hath  finished  his  conference 
with  the  Atheling,  he  will  leave  the  city;  and  I  shall 
be  at  his  own  favourite  manse  over  the  water  at  sun- 
set, to  take  orders  for  repairing  the  forts  and  dykes 
on  the  Marches.  You  can  tarry  awhile  and  meet  us; 
you  know  his  old  lodge  in  the  forest  land?" 

"  Nay,  I  must  be  back  and  at  home  ere  night,  for  all 
things  go  wrong  when  the  master  is  away.  Yet,  in- 
deed, my  good  wife  will  scold  me  for  not  having 
shaken  hands  with  the  handsome  Earl." 

"  Thou  shalt  not  come  under  that  sad  infliction," 
said  the  good-natured  Godrith,  who  was  pleased  with 
the  thegn's  devotion  to  Harold,  and  who,  knowing  the 
great  weight  which  Vebba  (homely  as  he  seemed)  car- 
ried in  his  important  county,  was  politically  anxious 
that  the  Earl  should  humour  so  sturdy  a  friend, — 
"  Thou  shalt  not  sour  thy  wife's  kiss,  man.  For  look 
you,  as  you  ride  back  you  will  pass  by  a  large  old 
house,  with  broken  columns  at  the  back." 

"  I  have  marked  it  well,"  said  the  thegn,  "  when  I 
have  gone  that  way,  with  a  heap  of  queer  stones,  on  a 
little  hillock,  which  they  say  the  witches  or  the  Brit- 
ons heaped  together." 

"  The  same.  When  Harold  leaves  London,  I  trow 
well  towards  that  house  will  his  road  wend;  for  there 
lives  Edith  the  swan's-neck,  with  her  awful  grandam 
the  Wicca.  If  thou  art  there  a  little  after  noon,  de- 
pend on  it  thou  wilt  see  Harold  riding  that  way." 

"  Thank  thee  heartily,  friend  Godrith,"  said  Vebba, 
taking  his  leave,  "  and  forgive  my  bluntness  if  I 
laughed  at  thy  cropped  head,  for  I  see  thou  art  as 
good  a  Saxon  as  e'er  a  franklin  of  Kent — and  so  the 
saints  keep  thee." 


238  HAROLD 

Vebba  then  strode  briskly  over  the  bridge;  and 
Godrith,  animated  by  the  wine  he  had  drunk,  turned 
gaily  on  his  heel  to  look  amongst  the  crowded  tables 
for  some  chance  friend  with  whom  to  while  away  a 
hour  or  so  at  the  games  of  hazard  then  in  vogue. 

Scarce  had  he  turned,  when  the  two  listeners,  who, 
having  paid  their  reckoning,  had  moved  under  shade 
of  one  of  the  arcades,  dropped  into  a  boat  which  they 
had  summoned  to  the  margin  by  a  noiseless  signal, 
and  were  rowed  over  the  water.  They  preserved  a 
silence  which  seemed  thoughtful  and  gloomy  until 
they  reached  the  opposite  shore;  then  one  of  them, 
pushing  back  his  bonnet,  showed  the  sharp  and 
haughty  features  of  Algar. 

"  Well,  friend  of  Gryffyth,"  said  he,  with  a  bitter  ac- 
cent, "  thou  hearest  that  Earl  Harold  counts  so  little 
on  the  oaths  of  thy  King,  that  he  intends  to  fortify 
the  Marches  against  him;  and  thou  hearest  also,  that 
nought  save  a  life,  as  fragile  as  the  reed  which  thy 
feet  are  trampling,  stands  between  the  throne  of  Eng- 
land and  the  only  Englishman  who  could  ever  have 
humbled  my  son-in-law  to  swear  oath  of  service  to 
Edward." 

"  Shame  upon  that  hour,"  said  the  other,  whose 
speech,  as  well  as  the  gold  collar  round  his  neck,  and 
the  peculiar  fashion  of  his  hair,  betokened  him  to  be 
Welch.  "  Little  did  I  think  that  the  great  son  of 
Llewellyn,  whom  our  bards  had  set  above  Roderic 
Mawr,  would  ever  have  acknowledged  the  sovereignty 
of  the  Saxon  over  the  hills  of  Cymry." 

"  Tut,  Meredydd,"  answered  Algar,  "  thou  knowest 
well  that  no  Cymrian  ever  deems  himself  dishonoured 
by  breaking  faith  with  the  Saxon;  and  we  shall  yet  see 
the  lions  of  Gryffyth  scaring  the  sheepfolds  of  Here- 
ford." 


HAROLD  239 

"  So  be  it,"  said  Meredydd,  fiercely.  "  And  Harold 
shall  give  to  his  Atheling  the  Saxon  land,  shorn  at 
least  of  the  Cymrian  kingdom." 

"  Meredydd,"  said  Algar,  with  a  seriousness  that 
seemed  almost  solemn,  "  no  Atheling  will  live  to  rule 
these  realms!  Thou  knowest  that  I  was  one  of  the 
first  to  hail  the  news  of  his  coming — I  hastened  to 
Dover  to  meet  him.  Methought  I  saw  death  writ  on 
his  countenance,  and  I  bribed  the  German  leach  who 
attends  him  to  answer  my  questions;  the  Atheling 
knows  it  not,  but  he  bears  within  him  the  seeds  of  a 
mortal  complaint.  Thou  wottest  well  what  cause  I 
have  to  hate  Earl  Harold;  and  were  I  the  only  man 
to  oppose  his  way  to  the  throne,  he  should  not  ascend 
it  but  over  my  corpse.  But  when  Godrith,  his  creat- 
ure, spoke,  I  felt  that  he  spoke  the  truth;  and,  the 
Atheling  dead,  on  no  head  but  Harold's  can  fall 
the  crown  of  Edward." 

"Ha!"  said  the  Cymrian  chief,  gloomily;  "  think- 
est  thou  so  indeed?" 

"I  think  it  not;  I  know  it.  And  for  that  reason, 
Meredydd,  we  must  wait  not  till  he  wields  against  us 
all  the  royalty  of  England.  As  yet,  while  Edward 
lives,  there  is  hope.  For  the  King  loves  to  spend 
wealth  on  relics  and  priests,  and  is  slow  when  the 
mancuscs  are  wanted  for  fighting  men.  The  King  too, 
poor  man!  is  not  so  ill-pleased  at  my  outbursts  as  he 
would  fain  have  it  thought;  he  thinks,  by  pitting  earl 
against  earl,  that  he  himself  is  the  stronger.1  While 
Edward  lives,  therefore,  Harold's  arm  is  half  crippled; 
wherefore,  Meredydd,  ride  thou,  with  good  speed, 
back  to  King  Gryffyth,  and  tell  him  all  that  I  have  told 
thee.  Tell  him  that  our  time  to  strike  the  blow  and 
1  Hume. 


240  HAROLD 

renew  the  war  will  be  amidst  the  dismay  and  confusion 
that  the  Atheling's  death  will  occasion.  Tell  him,  that 
if  we  can  entangle  Harold  himself  in  the  Welch  de- 
files, it  will  go  hard  but  what  we  shall  find  some  arrow 
or  dagger  to  pierce  the  heart  of  the  invader.  And 
were  Harold  but  slain — who  then  would  be  king  in 
England?  The  line  of  Cerdic  gone — the  House  of 
Godwin  lost  in  Earl  Harold,  (for  Tostig  is  hated  in  his 
own  domain,  Leofwine  is  too  light,  and  Gurth  is  too 
saintly  for  such  ambition) — who  then,  I  say,  can  be 
king  in  England  but  Algar,  the  heir  of  the  great  Leof- 
ric?  And  I,  as  King  of  England,  will  set  all  Cymry 
free,  and  restore  to  the  realm  of  Gryffyth  the  shires 
of  Hereford  and  Worcester.  Ride  fast,  O  Meredydd, 
and  heed  well  all  I  have  said." 

"  Dost  thou  promise  and  swear,  that  wert  thou  king 
of  England,  Cymry  should  be  free  from  all  service?" 

"Free  as  air,  free  as  under  Arthur  and  Uther:  I 
swear  it.  And  remember  well  how  Harold  addressed 
the  Cymrian  chiefs,  when  he  accepted  Gryffyth's  oaths 
of  service." 

"  Remember  it — ay,"  cried  Meredydd,  his  face  light- 
ing up  with  intense  ire  and  revenge;  "  the  stern  Saxon 
said,  '  Heed  well,  ye  chiefs  of  Cymry,  and  thou  Gryf- 
fyth the  King,  that  if  again  ye  force,  by  ravage  and 
rapine,  by  sacrilege  and  murther,  the  majesty  of  Eng- 
land to  enter  your  borders,  duty  must  be  done:  God 
grant  that  your  Cymrian  lion  may  leave  us  in  peace 
— if  not,  it  is  mercy  to  human  life  that  bids  us  cut  the 
talons,  and  draw  the  fangs.'  " 

"  Harold,  like  all  calm  and  mild  men,  ever  says  less 
than  he  means,"  returned  Algar;  "and  were  Harold 
king,  small  pretext  would  he  need  for  cutting  the  tal- 
ons and  drawing  the  fangs." 


HAROLD  241 

"  It  is  well,"  said  Meredydd,  with  a  fierce  smile. 
"  I  will  now  go  to  my  men  who  are  lodged  yonder; 
and  it  is  better  that  thou  shouldst  not  be  seen  with 
me." 

"  Right;  so  St.  David  be  with  you — and  forget  not 
a  word  of  my  message  to  Gryffyth  my  son-in-law." 

"  Not  a  word,"  returned  Meredydd,  as  with  a  wave 
of  his  hand  he  moved  towards  an  hostelry,  to  which, 
as  kept  by  one  of  their  own  countrymen,  the  Welch 
habitually  resorted  in  the  visits  to  the  capital  which  the 
various  intrigues  and  dissensions  in  their  unhappy  land 
made  frequent. 

The  chief's  train,  which  consisted  of  ten  men,  all  of 
high  birth,  were  not  drinking  in  the  tavern — for  sorry 
customers  to  mine  host  were  the  abstemious  Welch. 
Stretched  on  the  grass  under  the  trees  of  an  orchard 
that  backed  the  hostelry,  and  utterly  indifferent  to  all 
the  rejoicings  that  animated  the  population  of  South- 
wark  and  London,  they  were  listening  to  a  wild  song 
of  the  old  hero-days  from  one  of  their  number;  and 
round  them  grazed  the  rough  shagged  ponies  which 
they  had  used  for  their  journey.  Meredydd,  approach- 
ing, gazed  round,  and  seeing  no  stranger  was  present, 
raised  his  hand  to  hush  the  song,  and  then  addressed 
his  countrymen  briefly  in  Welsh — briefly,  but  with  a 
passion  that  was  evident  in  his  flashing  eyes  and  vehe- 
ment gestures.  The  passion  was  contagious;  they  all 
sprang  to  their  feet  with  a  low  but  fierce  cry,  and  in 
a  few  moments  they  had  caught  and  saddled  their  di- 
minutive palfreys,  while  one  of  the  band,  who  seemed 
singled  out  by  Meredydd,  sallied  forth  alone  from  the 
orchard,  and  took  his  way,  on  foot,  to  the  bridge.  He 
did  not  tarry  there  long;  at  the  sight  of  a  single  horse- 
man, whom  a  shout  of  welcome,  on  that  swarming 
VOL.  I.— 16 


242  HAROLD 

thoroughfare,  proclaimed  to  be  Earl  Harold,  the 
Welchman  turned,  and  with  a  fleet  foot  regained  his 
companions. 

Meanwhile  Harold,  smilingly,  returned  the  greet- 
ings he  received,  cleared  the  bridge,  passed  the  sub- 
urbs, and  soon  gained  the  wild  forest  land  that 
lay  along  the  great  Kentish-road.  He  rode  somewhat 
slowly,  for  he  was  evidently  in  deep  thought;  and  he 
had  arrived  about  half-way  towards  Hilda's  house 
when  he  heard  behind  quick  pattering  sounds,  as  of 
small  unshod  hoofs:  he  turned,  and  saw  the  Welchmen 
at  the  distance  of  some  fifty  yards.  But  at  that  mo- 
ment there  passed,  along  the  road  in  front,  several 
persons  bustling  into  London  to  share  in  the  festivi- 
ties of  the  day.  This  seemed  to  disconcert  the  Welch 
in  the  rear,  and,  after  a  few  whispered  words,  they 
left  the  high  road  and  entered  the  forest  land.  Vari- 
ous groups  from  time  to  time  continued  to  pass  along 
the  thoroughfare.  But  still,  ever  through  the  glades, 
Harold  caught  glimpses  of  the  riders;  now  distant, 
now  near.  Sometimes  he  heard  the  snort  of  their 
small  horses,  and  saw  a  fierce  eye  glaring  through  the 
bushes;  then,  as  at  the  sight  or  sound  of  approaching 
passengers,  the  riders  wheeled,  and  shot  off  through 
the  brakes. 

The  Earl's  suspicions  were  aroused;  for  (though  he 
knew  of  no  enemy  to  apprehend,  and  the  extreme 
severity  of  the  laws  against  robbers  made  the  high 
roads  much  safer  in  the  latter  days  of  the  Saxon  domi- 
nation than  they  were  for  centuries  under  that  of  the 
subsequent  dynasty,  when  Saxon  thegns  themselves 
had  turned  kings  of  the  greenwood,)  the  various  in- 
surrections in  Edward's  reign  had  necessarily  thrown 
upon  society  many  turbulent  disbanded  mercenaries. 


HAROLD  243 

Harold  was  unarmed,  save  the  spear  which,  even 
on  occasions  of  state,  the  Saxon  noble  rarely  laid  aside, 
and  the  ateghar  in  his  belt;  and,  seeing  now  that  the 
road  had  become  deserted,  he  set  spurs  to  his  horse, 
and  was  just  in  sight  of  the  Druid  temple,  when  a 
javelin  whizzed  close  by  his  breast,  and  another  trans- 
fixed his  horse,  which  fell  head  foremost  to  the 
ground. 

The  Earl  gained  his  feet  in  an  instant,  and  that 
haste  was  needed  to  save  his  life ;  for  while  he  rose  ten 
swords  flashed  around  him.  The  Welchmen  had 
sprung  from  their  palfreys  as  Harold's  horse  fell.  For- 
tunately for  him,  only  two  of  the  party  bore  javelins, 
(a  weapon  which  the  Welch  wielded  with  deadly  skill,) 
and,  those  already  wasted,  they  drew  their  short 
swords,  which  were  probably  imitated  from  the  Ro- 
mans, and  rushed  upon  him  in  simultaneous  onset. 
Versed  in  all  the  weapons  of  the  time,  with  his  right 
hand  seeking  by  his  spear  to  keep  off  the  rush,  with 
the  ateghar  in  his  left  parrying  the  strokes  aimed  at 
him,  the  brave  Earl  transfixed  the  first  assailant,  and 
sore  wounded  the  next;  but  his  tunic  was  dyed  red 
with  three  gashes,  and  his  sole  chance  of  life  was  in 
the  power  yet  left  him  to  force  his  way  through  the 
ring.  Dropping  his  spear,  shifting  his  ateghar  into 
the  right  hand,  wrapping  round  his  left  arm  his  gonna 
as  a  shield,  he  sprang  fiercely  on  the  onslaught,  and  on 
the  flashing  swords.  Pierced  to  the  heart  fell  one  of 
his  foes — dashed  to  the  earth  another — from  the  hand 
of  a  third  (dropping  his  own  ateghar)  he  wrenched 
the  sword.  Loud  rose  Harold's  cry  for  aid,  and 
swiftly  he  strode  towards  the  hillock,  turning  back, 
and  striking  as  he  turned;  and  again  fell  a  foe,  and 
again  new  blood  oozed  through  his  own  garb.  At 


244  HAROLD 

that  moment  his  cry  was  echoed  by  a  shriek  so  sharp 
and  so  piercing  that  it  startled  the  assailants,  it  arrested 
the  assault;  and,  ere  the  unequal  strife  could  be  re- 
sumed, a  woman  was  in  the  midst  of  the  fray ;  a  woman 
stood  dauntless  between  the  Earl  and  his  foes. 

"  Back!  Edith.  Oh,  God!  Back,  back!  "  cried  the 
Earl,  recovering  all  his  strength  in  the  sole  fear  which 
that  strife  had  yet  stricken  into  his  bold  heart;  and 
drawing  Edith  aside  with  his  strong  arm,  he  again 
confronted  the  assailants. 

"Die!"  cried,  in  the  Cymrian  tongue,  the  fiercest 
of  the  foes,  whose  sword  had  already  twice  drawn  the 
Earl's  blood;  "Die,  that  Cymry  may  be  free!" 

Meredydd  sprang,  with  him  sprang  the  survivors  of 
his  band;  and,  by  a  sudden  movement,  Edith  had 
thrown  herself  on  Harold's  breast,  leaving  his  right 
arm  free,  but  sheltering  his  form  with  her  own. 

At  that  sight  every  sword  rested  still  in  air.  These 
Cymrians,  hesitating  not  at  the  murder  of  the  man 
whose  death  seemed  to  their  false  virtue  a  sacrifice 
due  to  their  hopes  of  freedom,  were  still  the  descend- 
ants of  Heroes,  and  the  children  of  noble  Song,  and 
their  swords  were  harmless  against  a  woman.  The 
same  pause  which  saved  the  life  of  Harold,  saved  that 
of  Meredydd;  for  the  Cymrian's  lifted  sword  had  left 
his  breast  defenceless,  and  Harold,  despite  his  wrath, 
and  his  fears  for  Edith,  touched  by  that  sudden  for- 
bearance, forbore  himself  the  blow. 

"Why  seek  ye  my  life?"  said  he.  "Whom  in 
broad  England  hath  Harold  wronged?" 

That  speech  broke  the  charm,  revived  the  suspense 
of  vengeance.  With  a  sudden  aim,  Meredydd  smote 
at  the  head  which  Edith's  embrace  left  unprotected. 
The  sword  shivered  on  the  steel  of  that  which  parried 


A  woman  stood  dauntless  between  the  Earl  and  his  foes. 


"ri* 


HAROLD  245 

the  stroke,  and  the  next  moment,  pierced  to  the  heart, 
Meredydd  fell  to  the  earth,  bathed  in  his  gore.  Even 
as  he  fell,  aid  was  at  hand.  The  ceorls  in  the  Roman 
house  had  caught  the  alarm,  and  were  hurrying  down 
the  knoll,  with  arms  snatched  in  haste,  while  a  loud 
whoop  broke  from  the  forest  land  hard  by ;  and  a  troop 
of  horse,  headed  by  Vebba,  rushed  through  the  bushes 
and  brakes.  Those  of  the  Welch  still  surviving,  no 
longer  animated  by  their  fiery  chief,  turned  on  the 
instant,  and  fled  with  that  wonderful  speed  of  foot 
which  characterised  their  active  race ;  calling,  as  they 
fled,  to  their  Welch  pigmy  steeds,  which,  snorting 
loud,  and  lashing  out,  came  at  once  to  the  call.  Seiz- 
ing the  nearest  at  hand,  the  fugitives  sprang  to  selle, 
while  the  animals  unchosen  paused  by  the  corpses  of 
their  former  riders,  neighing  piteously,  and  shaking 
their  long  manes.  And  then,  after  wheeling  round 
and  round  the  coming  horsemen,  with  many  a  plunge, 
and  lash,  and  savage  cry,  they  darted  after  their  com- 
panions, and  disappeared  amongst  the  bushwood. 
Some  of  the  Kentish  men  gave  chase  to  the  fugitives, 
but  in  vain;  for  the  nature  of  the  ground  favoured 
flight.  Vebba,  and  the  rest,  now  joined  by  Hilda's 
lithsmen,  gained  the  spot  where  Harold,  bleeding  fast, 
yet  strove  to  keep  his  footing,  and,  forgetful  of  his  own 
wounds,  was  joyfully  assuring  himself  of  Edith's  safety. 
Vebba  dismounted,  and  recognising  the  Earl,  ex- 
claimed: 

"Saints  in  heaven!  are  we  in  time?  You  bleed — 
you  faint! — Speak,  Lord  Harold.  How  fares  it?" 

"  Blood  enow  yet  left  here  for  our  merrie  Eng- 
land! "  said  Harold,  with  a  smile.  .  But  as  he  spoke, 
his  head  drooped,  and  he  was  borne  senseless  into  the 
house  of  Hilda. 


246  HAROLD 


CHAPTER  II 

The  Vala  met  them  at  the  threshold,  and  testified 
so  little  surprise  at  the  sight  of  the  bleeding  and  un- 
conscious Earl,  that  Vebba,  who  had  heard  strange 
tales  of  Hilda's  unlawful  arts,  half-suspected  that  those 
wild-looking  foes,  with  their  uncanny,  diminutive 
horses,  were  imps  conjured  by  her  to  punish  a  wooer 
to  her  grandchild — who  had  been  perhaps  too  suc- 
cessful in  the  wooing.  And  fears  so  reasonable  were 
not  a  little  increased  when  Hilda,  after  leading  the 
way  up  the  steep  ladder  to  the  chamber  in  which  Har- 
old had  dreamed  his  fearful  dream,  bade  them  all  de- 
part, and  leave  the  wounded  man  to  her  care. 

"  Not  so,"  said  Vebba,  bluffly.  "  A  life  like  this  is 
not  to  be  left  in  the  hands  of  woman,  or  wicca.  I 
shall  go  back  to  the  great  town,  and  summon  the 
Earl's  own  leach.  And  I  beg  thee  to  heed,  meanwhile, 
that  every  head  in  this  house  shall  answer  for  Har- 
old's." 

The  great  Vala,  and  highborn  Hleafdian,  little  ac- 
customed to  be  accosted  thus,  turned  round  abruptly, 
with  so  stern  an  eye  and  so  imperious  a  mien,  that 
even  the  stout  Kent  man  felt  abashed.  She  pointed 
to  the  door  opening  on  the  ladder,  and  said,  briefly: 

"Depart!  Thy  lord's  life  hath  been  saved  already, 
and  by  woman.  Depart !  " 

"  Depart,  and  fear  not  for  the  Earl,  brave  and  true 
friend  in  need,"  said  Edith,  looking  up  from  Harold's 
pale  lips,  over  which  she  bent;  and  her  sweet  voice  so 
touched  the  good  thegn,  that,  murmuring  a  blessing 
on  her  fair  face,  he  turned  and  departed. 

Hilda  then  proceeded,  with  a  light  and  skilful  hand, 


HAROLD  247 

to  examine  the  wounds  of  her  patient.  She  opened 
the  tunic,  and  washed  away  the  blood  from  four  gap- 
ing orifices  on  the  breast  and  shoulders.  And  as  she 
did  so,  Edith  uttered  a  faint  cry,  and  falling  on  her 
knees,  bowed  her  head  over  the  drooping  hand,  and 
kissed  it  with  stifling  emotions,  of  which  perhaps  grate- 
ful joy  was  the  strongest;  for  over  the  heart  of  Harold 
was  punctured,  after  the  fashion  of  the  Saxons,  a  de- 
vice— and  that  device  was  the  knot  of  betrothal,  and 
in  the  centre  of  the  knot  was  graven  the  word 
"  Edith." 

CHAPTER   III 

Whether  owing  to  Hilda's  runes,  or  to  the  merely 
human  arts  which  accompanied  them,  the  Earl's  re- 
covery was  rapid,  though  the  great  loss  of  blood  he 
had  sustained  left  him  awhile  weak  and  exhausted. 
But,  perhaps,  he  blessed  the  excuse  which  detained 
him  still  in  the  house  of  Hilda,  and  under  the  eyes  of 
Edith. 

He  dismissed  the  leach  sent  to  him  by  Vebba,  and 
confided,  not  without  reason,  to  the  Vala's  skill.  And 
how  happily  went  his  hours  beneath  the  old  Roman 
roof! 

It  was  not  without  a  superstition,  more  character- 
ised, however,  by  tenderness  than  awe,  that  Harold 
learned  that  Edith  had  been  undefinably  impressed 
with  a  foreboding  of  danger  to  her  betrothed,  and  all 
that  morning  she  had  watched  his  coming  from  the  old 
legendary  hill.  Was  it  not  in  that  watch  that  his  good 
Fylgia  had  saved  his  life? 

Indeed,  there  seemed  a  strange  truth  in  Hilda's  as- 
sertions, that  in  the  form  of  his  betrothed,  his  tutelary 


248  HAROLD 

spirit  lived  and  guarded.  For  smooth  every  step,  and 
bright  every  day,  in  his  career,  since  their  troth  had 
been  plighted.  And  gradually  the  sweet  superstition 
had  mingled  with  Human  passion  to  hallow  and  refine 
it.  There  was  a  purity  and  a  depth  in  the  love  of 
these  two,  which,  if  not  uncommon  in  women,  is  most 
rare  in  men. 

Harold,  in  sober  truth,  had  learned  to  look  on  Edith 
as  on  his  better  angel;  and,  calming  his  strong  manly 
heart  in  the  hour  of  temptation,  would  have  recoiled, 
as  a  sacrilege,  from  aught  that  could  have  sullied  that 
image  of  celestial  love.  With  a  noble  and  sublime 
patience,  of  which  perhaps  only  a  character  so  thor- 
oughly English  in  its  habits  of  self-control  and  stead- 
fast endurance  could  have  been  capable,  he  saw  the 
months  and  the  years  glide  away,  and  still  contented 
himself  with  hope; — hope,  the  sole  godlike  joy  that 
belongs  to  men! 

As  the  opinion  of  an  age  influences  even  those  who 
affect  to  despise  it,  so,  perhaps,  this  holy  and  unselfish 
passion  was  preserved  and  guarded  by  that  peculiar 
veneration  for  purity  which  formed  the  characteristic 
fanaticism  of  the  last  days  of  the  Anglo-Saxons, — 
when  still,  as  Aldhelm  had  previously  sung  in  Latin 
less  barbarous  than  perhaps  any  priest  in  the  reign  of 
Edward  could  command: 

"  Virginitas  castam  servans  sine  crimine  camera 
Caetera  virtutem  vincit  praeconia  laudi — 
Spiritus  altithroni  templum  sibi  vindicat  almus ;  "  1 

1  "  The  chaste  who  blameless  keep  unsullied  fame, 
Transcend  all  other  worth,  all  other  praise. 
The  Spirit,  high  enthroned,  has  made  their  hearts 
His  sacred  temple." 

SHARON  TURNER'S  Translation  of  Aldhelm,  vol.  iii.  p.  366.  It 
is  curious  to  see  how,  even  in  Latin,  the  poet  preserves  the 
'alliterations  that  characterised  the  Saxon  muse. 


HAROLD  249 

when,  amidst  a  great  dissoluteness  of  manners,  alike 
common  to  Church  and  laity,  the  opposite  virtues  were, 
as  is  invariable  in  such  epochs  of  society,  carried  by 
the  few  purer  natures  into  heroic  extremes.  "  And 
as  gold,  the  adorner  of  the  world,  springs  from  the  sor- 
did bosom  of  earth,  so  chastity,  the  image  of  gold, 
rose  bright  and  unsullied  from  the  clay  of  human  de- 
sire." 1 

And  Edith,  though  yet  in  the  tenderest  flush  of 
beautiful  youth,  had,  under  the  influence  of  that  sanc- 
tifying and  scarce  earthly  affection,  perfected  her  full 
nature  as  woman.  She  had  learned  so  to  live  in  Har- 
old's life,  that — less,  it  seemed,  by  study  than  intuition 
— a  knowledge  graver  than  that  which  belonged  to  her 
sex  and  her  time,  seemed  to  fall  upon  her  soul — fall 
as  the  sunlight  falls  on  the  blossoms,  expanding  their 
petals,  and  brightening  the  glory  of  their  hues. 

Hitherto,  living  under  the  shade  of  Hilda's  dreary 
creed,  Edith,  as  we  have  seen,  had  been  rather  Chris- 
tian by  name  and  instinct  than  acquainted  with  the 
doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  or  penetrated  by  its  faith. 
But  the  soul  of  Harold  lifted  her  own  out  of  the  Valley 
of  the  Shadow  up  to  the  Heavenly  Hill.  For  the 
character  of  their  love  was  so  pre-eminently  Christian, 
so,  by  the  circumstances  that  surrounded  it — so  by 
hope  and  self-denial,  elevated  out  of  the  empire,  not 
only  of  the  senses,  but  even  of  that  sentiment  which 
springs  from  them,  and  which  made  the  sole  refined 
and  poetic  element  of  the  heathen's  love,  that  but  for 
Christianity  it  would  have  withered  and  died.  It  re- 
quired all  the  aliment  of  prayer;  it  needed  that  patient 
endurance  which  comes  from  the  soul's  consciousness 
of  immortality;  it  could  not  have  resisted  earth,  but 
1  Slightly  altered  from  Aldhelm. 


2$o  HAROLD 

from  the  forts  and  armies  it  won  from  heaven.  Thus 
from  Harold  might  Edith  be  said  to  have  taken  her 
very  soul.  And  with  the  soul,  and  through  the  soul, 
woke  the  mind  from  the  mists  of  childhood. 

In  the  intense  desire  to  be  worthy  the  love  of  the 
foremost  man  of  her  land;  to  be  the  companion  of  his 
mind,  as  well  as  the  mistress  of  his  heart,  she  had 
acquired,  she  knew  not  how,  strange  stores  of  thought, 
and  intelligence,  and  pure,  gentle  wisdom.  In  open- 
ing to  her  confidence  his  own  high  aims  and  projects, 
he  himself  was  scarcely  conscious  how  often  he  con- 
fided but  to  consult — how  -often  and  how  insensibly 
she  coloured  his  reflections  and  shaped  his  designs. 
Whatever  was  highest  and  purest,  that,  Edith  ever, 
as  by  instinct,  beheld  as  the  wisest.  She  grew  to  him 
like  a  second  conscience,  diviner  than  his  own.  Each, 
therefore,  reflected  virtue  on  the  other,  as  planet  illu- 
mines planet. 

All  these  years  of  probation  then,  which  might  have 
soured  a  love  less  holy,  changed  into  weariness  a  love 
less  intense,  had  only  served  to  wed  them  more  in- 
timately soul  to  soul;  and  in  that  spotless  union  what 
happiness  there  was!  what  rapture  in  word  and  glance, 
and  the  slight,  restrained  caress  of  innocence,  beyond 
all  the  transports  love  only  human  can  bestow! 


CHAPTER   IV 

It  was  a  bright  still  summer  noon,  when  Harold 
sate  with  Edith  amidst  the  columns  of  the  Druid  tem- 
ple, and  in  the  shade  which  those  vast  and  mournful 
relics  of  a  faith  departed  cast  along  the  sward.  And 
there,  conversing  over  the  past,  and  planning  the 


HAROLD  251 

future,  they  had  sate  long,  when  Hilda  approached 
from  the  house,  and  entering  the  circle,  leant  her  arm 
upon  the  altar  of  the  war-god,  and  gazing  on  Harold 
with  a  calm  triumph  in  her  aspect,  said: 

"  Did  I  not  smile,  son  of  Godwin,  when,  with  thy 
short-sighted  wisdom,  thou  didst  think  to  guard  thy 
land  and  secure  thy  love,  by  urging  the  monk-king  to 
send  over  the  seas  for  the  Atheling?  Did  I  not  tell 
thee,  '  Thou  dost  right,  for  in  obeying  thy  judgment 
thou  art  but  the  instrument  of  fate;  and  the  coming  of 
the  Atheling  shall  speed  thee  nearer  to  the  ends  of  thy 
life,  but  not  from  the  Atheling  shalt  thou  take  the 
crown  of  thy  love,  and  not  by  the  Atheling  shall  the 
throne  of  Athelstan  be  filled'?" 

"  Alas,"  said  Harold,  rising  in  agitation,  "  let  me  not 
hear  of  mischance  to  that  noble  prince.  He  seemed 
sick  and  feeble  when  I  parted  from  him;  but  joy  is  a 
great  restorer,  and  the  air  of  the  native  land  gives 
quick  health  to  the  exile." 

"  Hark!  "  said  Hilda,  "  you  hear  the  passing  bell  for 
the  soul  of  the  son  of  Ironsides!  " 

The  mournful  knell,  as  she  spoke,  came  dull  from 
the  roofs  of  the  city  afar,  borne  to  their  ears  by  the 
exceeding  stillness  of  the  atmosphere.  Edith  crossed 
herself,  and  murmured  a  prayer  according  to  the  cus- 
tom of  the  age;  then  raising  her  eyes  to  Harold,  she 
murmured,  as  she  clasped  her  hands: 

"  Be  not  saddened,  Harold;  hope  still." 

"Hope!"  repeated  Hilda,  rising  proudly  from  her 
recumbent  position,  "  Hope!  in  that  knell  from  St. 
Paul's,  dull  indeed  is  thine  ear,  O  Harold,  if  thou 
hearest  not  the  joy-bells  that  inaugurate  a  future 
king!" 

The  Earl  started;  his  eyes  shot  fire;  his  breast 
heaved. 


2$2  HAROLD 

"Leave  us,  Edith,"  said  Hilda,  in  a  low  voice;  and 
after  watching  her  grandchild's  slow  reluctant  steps 
descend  the  knoll,  she  turned  to  Harold,  and  leading 
him  towards  the  gravestone  of  the  Saxon  chief,  said: 
"  Rememberest  thou  the  spectre  that  rose  from  this 
mound? — rememberest  thou  the  dream  that  followed 
it?" 

"  The  spectre,  or  deceit  of  mine  eye,  I  remember 
well,"  answered  the  Earl;  "the  dream,  not; — or  only 
in  confused  and  jarring  fragments." 

"  I  told  thee  then,  that  I  could  not  unriddle  the 
dream  by  the  light  of  the  moment;  and  that  the  dead 
who  slept  below  never  appeared  to  men,  save  for 
some  portent  of  doom  to  the  house  of  Cerdic.  The 
portent  is  fulfilled ;  the  Heir  of  Cerdic  is  no  more.  To 
whom  appeared  the  great  Scin-laeca,  but  to  him  who 
shall  lead  a  new  race  of  kings  to*  the  Saxon  throne !  " 

Harold  breathed  hard,  and  the  colour  mounted 
bright  and  glowing  to  his  cheek  and  brow. 

"  I  cannot  gainsay  thee,  Vala.  Unless,  despite  all 
conjecture,  Edward  should  be  spared  to  earth  till  the 
Atheling's  infant  son  acquires  the  age  when  bearded 
men  will  acknowledge  a  chief,1  I  look  round  in  Eng- 

1  It  is  impossible  to  form  any  just  view  of  the  state  of  parties, 
and  the  position  of  Harold  in  the  later  portions  of  this  work, 
unless  the  reader  will  bear  constantly  in  mind  the  fact  that, 
from  the  earliest  period,  minors  were  set  aside  as  a  matter  of 
course,  by  the  Saxon  customs.  Henry  observes  that,  in  the 
whole  history  of  the  Heptarchy,  there  is  but  one  example  of 
a  minority,  and  that  a  short  and  unfortunate  one;  so,  in  the 
later  times,  the  great  Alfred  takes  the  throne,  to  the  exclusion 
of  the  infant  son  of  his  elder  brother.  Only  under  very  pe- 
culiar circumstances,  backed,  as  in  the  case  of  Edmund  Iron- 
sides, by  precocious  talents  and  manhood  on  the  part  of  the 
minor,  were  there  exceptions  to  the  general  laws  of  succes- 
sion. The  same  rule  obtained  with  the  earldoms ;  the  fame, 
power,  and  popularity  of  Siward  could  not  transmit  his  Nor- 
thumbrian earldom  to  his  infant  son  Waltheof,  so  gloomily  re- 
nowned in  a  subsequent  reign. 


HAROLD  253 

land  for  the  coming  king,  and  all  England  reflects  but 
mine  own  image." 

His  head  rose  erect  as  he  spoke,  and  already  the 
brow  seemed  august,  as  if  circled  by  the  diadem  of  the 
Basileus. 

"  And  if  it  be  so,"  he  added,  "  I  accept  that  solemn 
trust,  and  England  shall  grow  greater  in  my  great- 
ness." 

"  The  flame  breaks  at  last  from  the  smouldering 
fuel!  "  cried  the  Vala,  "  and  the  hour  I  so  long  foretold 
to  thee  hath  come!  " 

Harold  answered  not,  for  high  and  kindling  emo- 
tions deafened  him  to  all  but  the  voice  of  a  grand  am- 
bition, and  the  awakening  joy  of  a  noble  heart. 

"  And  then — and  then,"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  shall  need 
no  mediator  between  nature  and  monkcraft; — then, 
O  Edith,  the  life  thou  hast  saved  will  indeed  be  thine!  " 
He  paused,  and  it  was  a  sign  of  the  change  that  an  am- 
bition long  repressed,  but  now  rushing  into  the  vent 
legitimately  open  to  it,  had  already  begun  to  work  in 
the  character  hitherto  so  self-reliant,  when  he  said  in 
a  low  voice,  "  But  that  dream  which  hath  so  long  lain 
locked,  not  lost,  in  my  mind;  that  dream  of  which  I 
recall  only  vague  remembrances  of  danger  yet  de- 
fiance, trouble  yet  triumph, — canst  thou  unriddle  it, 
O  Vala,  into  auguries  of  success?" 

"  Harold,"  answered  Hilda,  "  thou  didst  hear  at  the 
close  of  thy  dream,  the  music  of  the  hymns  that  are 
chaunted  at  the  crowning  of  a  king, — and  a  crowned 
king  shalt  thou  be;  yet  fearful  foes  shall  assail  thee 
.—foreshown  in  the  shapes  of  a  lion  and  raven,  that 
came  in  menace  over  the  blood-red  sea.  The  two 
stars  in  the  heaven  betoken  that  the  day  of  thy  birth 
was  also  the  birthday  of  a  foe,  whose  star  is  fatal  to 


254  HAROLD 

thine;  and  they  warn  thee  against  a  battle-field,  fought 
on  the  day  when  those  stars  shall  meet.  Farther  than 
this  the  mystery  of  thy  dream  escapes  from  my  lore; 
— wouldst  thou  learn  thyself,  from  the  phantom  that 
sent  the  dream ; — stand  by  my  side  at  the  grave  of  the 
Saxon  hero,  and  I  will  summon  the  Scin-laeca  to  coun- 
sel the  living.  For  what  to  the  Vala  the  dead  may 
deny,  the  soul  of  the  brave  on  the  brave  may  bestow !  " 

Harold  listened  with  a  serious  and  musing  attention 
which  his  pride  or  his  reason  had  never  before  ac- 
corded to  the  warnings  of  Hilda.  But  his  sense  was 
not  yet  fascinated  by  the  voice  of  the  charmer,  and 
he  answered  with  his  wonted  smile,  so  sweet  yet  so 
haughty : 

"  A  hand  outstretched  to  a  crown  should  be  armed 
for  the  foe;  and  the  eye  that  would  guard  the  living 
should  not  be  dimmed  by  the  vapours  that  encircle 
the  dead." 


CHAPTER   V 

But  from  that  date  changes,  slight,  yet  noticeable 
and  important,  were  at  work  both  in  the  conduct  and 
character  of  the  great  Earl. 

Hitherto  he  had  advanced  on  his  career  without  cal- 
culation; and  nature,  not  policy,  had  achieved  his 
power.  But  henceforth  he  began  thoughtfully  to 
cement  the  foundations  of  his  House,  to  extend  the 
area,  to  strengthen  the  props.  Policy  now  mingled 
with  the  justice  that  had  made  him  esteemed,  and  the 
generosity  that  had  won  him  love.  Before,  though 
by  temper  conciliatory,  yet,  through  honesty,  indiffer- 
ent to  the  enmities  he  provoked,  in  his  adherence  to 
what  his  conscience  approved,  he  now  laid  himself 


HAROLD  255 

out  to  propitiate  all  ancient  feuds,  soothe  all  jealousies, 
and  convert  foes  into  friends.  He  opened  constant 
and  friendly  communication  with  his  uncle  Sweyn, 
King  of  Denmark;  he  availed  himself  sedulously  of 
all  the  influence  over  the  Anglo-Danes  which  his 
mother's  birth  made  so  facile.  He  strove  also,  and 
wisely,  to  conciliate  the  animosities  which  the  Church 
had  cherished  against  Godwin's  house:  he  concealed 
his  disdain  of  the  monks  and  monkridden:  he  showed 
himself  the  Church's  patron  and  friend;  he  endowed 
largely  the  convents,  and  especially  one  at  Waltham, 
which  had  fallen  into  decay,  though  favourably  known 
for  the  piety  of  its  brotherhood.  But  if  in  this  he 
played  a  part  not  natural  to  his  opinions,  Harold  could 
not,  even  in  simulation,  administer  to  evil.  The  mon- 
asteries he  favoured  were  those  distinguished  for  pur- 
ity of  life,  for  benevolence  to  the  poor,  for  bold  denun- 
ciation of  the  excesses  of  the  great.  He  had  not,  like 
the  Norman,  the  grand  design  of  creating  in  the  priest- 
hood a  college  of  learning,  a  school  of  arts;  such  no- 
tions were  unfamiliar  in  homely,  unlettered  England. 
And  Harold,  though  for  his  time  and  his  land  no 
mean  scholar,  would  have  recoiled  from  favouring  a 
learning  always  made  subservient  to  Rome;  always 
at  once  haughty  and  scheming,  and  aspiring  to  com- 
plete domination  over  both  the  souls  of  men  and  the 
thrones  of  kings.  But  his  aim  was,  out  of  the  ele- 
ments he  found  in  the  natural  kindliness  existing  be- 
tween Saxon  priest  and  Saxon  flock,  to  rear  a  modest, 
virtuous,  homely  clergy,  not  above  tender  sympathy 
with  an  ignorant  population.  He  selected  as  exam- 
ples for  his  monastery  at  Waltham,  two  low-born 
humble  brothers,  Osgood  and  Ailred;  the  one  known 
for  the  courage  with  which  he  had  gone  through  the 


256  HAROLD 

land,  preaching  to  abbot  and  thegn  the  emancipation 
of  the  theowes,  as  the  most  meritorious  act  the  safety 
of  the  soul  could  impose;  the  other,  who,  originally  a 
clerk,  had,  according  to  the  common  custom  of  the 
Saxon  clergy,  contracted  the  bonds  of  marriage,  and 
with  some  eloquence  had  vindicated  that  custom 
against  the  canons  of  Rome,  and  refused  the  offer  of 
large  endowments  and  thegn's  rank  to  put  away  his 
wife.  But  on  the  death  of  that  spouse  he  had  adopted 
the  cowl,  and  while  still  persisting  in  the  lawfulness  of 
marriage  to  the  unmonastic  clerks,  had  become  fa- 
mous for  denouncing  the  open  concubinage  which 
desecrated  the  holy  office,  and  violated  the  solemn 
vows,  of  many  a  proud  prelate  and  abbot. 

To  these  two  men  (both  of  whom  refused  the  abbacy 
of  Waltham)  Harold  committed  the  charge  of  select- 
ing the  new  brotherhood  established  there.  And  the 
monks  of  Waltham  were  honoured  as  saints  through- 
out the  neighbouring  district,  and  cited  as  examples 
to  all  the  Church. 

But  though  in  themselves  the  new  politic  arts  of 
Harold  seemed  blameless  enough,  arts  they  were,  and 
as  such  they  corrupted  the  genuine  simplicity  of  his 
earlier  nature.  He  had  conceived  for  the  first  time 
an  ambition  apart  from  that  of  service  to  his  country. 
It  was  no  longer  only  to  serve  the  land,  it  was  to  serve 
it  as  its  ruler,  that  animated  his  heart  and  coloured 
his  thoughts.  Expediencies  began  to  dim  to  his  con- 
science the  healthful  loveliness  of  Truth.  And  now, 
too,  gradually,  that  empire  which  Hilda  had  gained 
over  his  brother  Sweyn  began  to  sway  this  man,  here- 
tofore so  strong  in  his  sturdy  sense.  The  future  be- 
came to  him  a  dazzling  mystery,  into  which  his  con- 
jectures plunged  themselves  more  and  more.  He  had 


HAROLD  257 

not  yet  stood  in  the  Runic  circle  and  invoked  the 
dead;  but  the  spells  were  around  his  heart,  and  in  his 
own  soul  had  grown  up  the  familiar  demon. 

Still  Edith  reigned  alone,  if  not  in  his  thoughts  at 
least  in  his  affections;  and  perhaps  it  was  the  hope  of 
conquering  all  obstacles  to  his  marriage  that  mainly 
induced  him  to  propitiate  the  Church,  through  whose 
agency  the  object  he  sought  must  be  attained;  and 
still  that  hope  gave  the  brightest  lustre  to  the  distant 
crown.  But  he  who  admits  Ambition  to  the  com- 
panionship of  Love,  admits  a  giant  that  outstrides  the 
gentler  footsteps  of  its  comrade. 

Harold's  brow  lost  its  benign  calm.  He  became 
thoughtful  and  abstracted.  He  consulted  Edith  less, 
Hilda  more.  Edith  seemed  to  him  now  not  wise 
enough  to  counsel.  The  smile  of  his  Fylgia,  like  the 
light  of  the  star  upon  a  stream,  lit  the  surface,  but 
could  not  pierce  to  the  deep. 

Meanwhile,  however,  the  policy  of  Harold  throve 
and  prospered.  He  had  already  arrived  at  that  height, 
that  the  least  effort  to  make  power  popular  redoubled 
its  extent.  Gradually  all  voices  swelled  the  chorus  in 
his  praise;  gradually  men  became  familiar  to  the  ques- 
tion, "  If  Edward  dies  before  Edgar,  the  grandson  of 
Ironsides,  is  of  age  to  succeed,  where  can  we  find  a 
king  like  Harold?  " 

In  the  midst  of  this  quiet  but  deepening  sunshine 
of  his  fate,  there  burst  a  storm,  which  seemed  destined 
either  to  darken  his  day  or  to  disperse  every  cloud 
from  the  horizon.  Algar,  the  only  possible  rival  to 
his  power — the  only  opponent  no  arts  could  soften — 
Algar,  whose  hereditary  name  endeared  him  to  the 
Saxon  laity,  whose  father's  most  powerful  legacy  was 
the  love  of  the  Saxon  Church,  whose  martial  and  tur- 
VOL.  I.— 17 


258  HAROLD 

bulent  spirit  had  only  the  more  elevated  him  in  the 
esteem  of  the  warlike  Danes  in  East  Anglia  (the  earl- 
dom in  which  he  had  succeeded  Harold),  by  his  fa- 
ther's death,  lord  of  the  great  principality  of  Mercia 
— availed  himself  of  that  new  power  to  break  out  again 
into  rebellion.  Again  he  was  outlawed,  again  he 
leagued  with  the  fiery  Gryffyth.  All  Wales  was  in 
revolt;  the  Marches  were  invaded  and  laid  waste. 
Rolf,  the  feeble  Earl  of  Hereford,  died  at  this  critical 
juncture,  and  the  Normans  and  hirelings  under  him 
mutinied  against  other  leaders;  a  fleet  of  vikings  from 
Norway  ravaged  the  western  coasts,  and  sailing  up  the 
Menai,  joined  the  ships  of  Gryffyth,  and  the  whole 
empire  seemed  menaced  with  dissolution,  when  Ed- 
ward issued  his  Herr-bann,  and  Harold  at  the  head 
of  the  royal  armies  marched  on  the  foe. 

Dread  and  dangerous  were  those  defiles  of  Wales; 
amidst  them  had  been  foiled  or  slaughtered  all  the 
warriors  under  Rolf  the  Norman;  no  Saxon  armies 
had  won  laurels  in  the  Cymrian's  own  mountain  home 
within  the  memory  of  man;  nor  had  any  Saxon  ships 
borne  the  palm  from  the  terrible  vikings  of  Norway. 
Fail,  Harold,  and  farewell  the  crown! — succeed,  and 
thou  hast  on  thy  side  the  ultimam  rationem  regum  (the 
last  argument  of  kings),  the  heart  of  the  army  over 
which  thou  art  chief. 


CHAPTER   VI 

It  was  one  day  in  the  height  of  summer  that  two 
horsemen  rode  slowly,  and  conversing  with  each  other 
in  friendly  wise,  notwithstanding  an  evident  differ- 
ence of  rank  and  of  nation,  through  the  lovely  country 
which  formed  the  Marches  of  Wales  The  younger 


HAROLD  259 

of  these  men  was  unmistakably  a  Norman;  his  cap 
only  partially  covered  the  head,  which  was  shaven 
from  the  crown  to  the  nape  of  the  neck,1  while  in  front 
the  hair,  closely  cropped,  curled  short  and  thick  round 
a  haughty  but  intelligent  brow.  His  dress  fitted  close 
to  his  shape,  and  was  worn  without  mantle;  his  leg- 
gings were  curiously  crossed  in  the  fashion  of  a  tartan, 
and  on  his  heels  were  spurs  of  gold.  He  was  wholly 
unarmed;  but  behind  him  and  his  companion,  at  a  little 
distance,  his  war-horse,  completely  caparisoned,  was 
led  by  a  single  squire,  mounted  on  a  good  Norman 
steed;  while  six  Saxon  theowes,  themselves  on  foot, 
conducted  three  sumpter-mules,  somewhat  heavily 
laden,  not  only  with  the  armour  of  the  Norman  knight, 
but  panniers  containing  rich  robes,  wines,  and  proven- 
der. At  a  few  paces  farther  behind,  marched  a  troop, 
light-armed,  in  tough  hides,  curiously  tanned,  with 
axes  swung  over  their  shoulders,  and  bows  in  their 
hands. 

The  companion  of  the  knight  was  as  evidently  a 
Saxon,  as  the  knight  was  unequivocally  a  Norman. 
His  square  short  features,  contrasting  the  oval  visage 
and  aqutline  profile  of  his  close-shaven  comrade,  were 
half  concealed  beneath  a  bushy  beard  and  immense 
moustache.  His  tunic,  also,  was  of  hide,  and,  tight- 
ened at  the  waist,  fell  loose  to  his  knee;  while  a  kind 
of  cloak,  fastened  to  the  right  shoulder  by  a  large 
round  button  or  brooch,  flowed  behind  and  in  front, 
but  left  both  arms  free.  His  cap  differed  in  shape 
from  the  Norman's,  being  round  and  full  at  the  sides, 
somewhat  in  shape  like  a  turban.  His  bare,  brawny 
throat  was  curiously  punctured  with  sundry  devices, 
and  a  verse  from  the  Psalms. 

1  Bayeux  Tapestry. 


260  HAROLD 

His  countenance,  though  without  the  high  and 
haughty  brow,  and  the  acute,  observant  eye  of  his 
comrade,  had  a  pride  and  intelligence  of  its  own — a 
pride  somewhat  sullen,  and  an  intelligence  somewhat 
slow. 

"  My  good  friend,  Sexwolf,"  quoth  the  Norman  in 
very  tolerable  Saxon,  "  I  pray  you  not  so  to  mis- 
esteem  us.  After  all,  we  Normans  are  of  your  own 
race:  our  fathers  spoke  the  same  language  as  yours." 

"  That  may  be,"  said  the  Saxon,  bluntly,  "  and  so 
did  the  Danes,  with  little  difference,  when  they  burned 
our  houses  and  cut  our  throats." 

"  Old  tales,  those,"  replied  the  knight,  "  and  I 
thank  thee  for  the  comparison;  for  the  Danes,  thou 
seest,  are  now  settled  amongst  ye,  peaceful  subjects 
and  quiet  men,  and  in  a  few  generations  it  will  be  hard 
to  guess  who  comes  from  Saxon,  who  from  Dane." 

"  We  waste  time,  talking  such  matters,"  returned 
the  Saxon,  feeling  himself  instinctively  no  match  in 
argument  for  his  lettered  companion;  and  seeing,  with 
his  native  strong  sense,  that  some  ulterior  object, 
though  he  guessed  not  what,  lay  hid  in  the  conciliatory 
language  of  his  companion;  "  nor  do  I  believe,  Master 
Mallet  or  Gravel — forgive  me  if  I  miss  of  the  right 
forms  to  address  you — that  Norman  will  ever  love 
Saxon,  or  Saxon  Norman;  so  let  us  cut  our  words 
short.  There  stands  the  convent,  at  which  you  would 
like  to  rest  and  refresh  yourself." 

The  Saxon  pointed  to  a  low,  clumsy  building  of 
timber,  forlorn  and  decayed,  close  by  a  rank  marsh, 
over  which  swarmed  gnats,  and  all  foul  animalcules. 

Mallet  de  Graville,  for  it  was  he,  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders, and  said,  with  an  air  of  pity  and  contempt: 

"  I  would,  friend  Sexwolf,  that  thou  couldst  but  see 


HAROLD  261 

the  houses  we  build  to  God  and  his  saints  in  our  Nor- 
mandy; fabrics  of  stately  stone,  on  the  fairest  sites. 
Our  Countess  Matilda  hath  a  notable  taste  for  the 
masonry;  and  our  workmen  are  the  brethren  of  Lom- 
bardy,  who  know  all  the  mysteries  thereof." 

"  I  pray  thee,  Dan-Norman,"  cried  the  Saxon,  "  not 
to  put  such  ideas  into  the  soft  head  of  King  Edward. 
We  pay  enow  for  the  Church,  though  built  but  of  tim- 
ber; saints  help  us  indeed,  if  it  were  builded  of  stone!  " 

The  Norman  crossed  himself,  as  if  he  had  heard 
some  signal  impiety,  and  then  said: 

"  Thou  lovest  not  Mother  Church,  worthy  Sex- 
wolf?  " 

"  I  was  brought  up,"  replied  the  sturdy  Saxon,  "  to 
work  and  sweat  hard,  and  I  love  not  the  lazy  who 
devour  my  substance,  and  say,  '  the  saints  gave  it 
them.'  Knowest  thou  not,  Master  Mallet,  that  one- 
third  of  all  the  lands  of  England  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
priests?  " 

"  Hem!  "  said  the  acute  Norman,  who,  with  all  his 
devotion,  could  stoop  to  wring  worldly  advantage  from 
each  admission  of  his  comrade;  "then  in  this  merrie 
England  of  thine  thou  hast  still  thy  grievances  and 
cause  of  complaint?" 

"  Yea  indeed,  and  I  trow  it,"  quoth  the  Saxon,  even 
in  that  day  a  grumbler;  "  but  I  take  it,  the  main  differ- 
ence between  thee  and  me  is,  that  I  can  say  what  mis- 
likes  me  out  like  a  man ;  and  it  would  fare  ill  with  thy 
limbs  or  thy  life  if  thou  wert  as  frank  in  the  grim  land 
of  thy  hcrctogh." 

"  Now,  Notre  Dame  stop  thy  prating,"  said  the  Nor- 
man, in  high  disdain,  while  his  brow  frowned  and  his 
eye  sparkled.  "  Strong  judge  and  great  captain  as 
is  William  the  Norman,  his  barons  and  knights  hold 


262  HAROLD 

their  heads  high  in  his  presence,  and  not  a  grievance 
weighs  on  the  heart  that  we  give  not  out  with  the 
lip." 

"  So  have  I  heard,"  said  the  Saxon,  chuckling;  "  I 
have  heard,  indeed,  that  ye  thegns,  or  great  men,  are 
free  enow,  and  plainspoken.  But  what  of  the  com- 
mons— the  sixhaendmen  and  the  ceorls,  master  Nor- 
man? Dare  they  speak  as  we  speak  of  king  and  of 
law,  of  thegn  and  of  captain?  " 

The  Norman  wisely  curbed  the  scornful  "  No,  in- 
deed," that  rushed  to  his  lips,  and  said,  all  sweet  and 
debonnair: 

"Each  land  hath  its  customs,  dear  Sexwolf:  and  if 
the  Norman  were  king  of  England,  he  would  take  the 
laws  as  he  finds  them,  and  the  ceorls  would  be  as  safe 
with  William  as  Edward." 

"  The  Norman  king  of  England!  "  cried  the  Saxon, 
reddening  to  the  tips  of  his  great  ears,  "  what  dost 
thou  babble  of,  stranger?  The  Norman! — How  could 
that  ever  be?  " 

"  Nay,  I  did  but  suggest — but  suppose  such  a  case," 
replied  the  knight,  still  smothering  his  wrath.  "  And 
why  thinkest  tho'u  the  conceit  so  outrageous?  Thy 
King  is  childless;  William  is  his  next  of  kin,  and  dear 
to  him  as  a  brother;  and  if  Edward  did  leave  him  the 
throne — " 

"  The  throne  is  for  no  man  to  leave,"  almost  roared 
the  Saxon.  "  Thinkest  thou  the  people  of  England 
are  like  cattle  and  sheep,  and  chattels  and  theowes,  to 
be  left  by  will,  as  man  fancies?  The  King's  wish  has 
its  weight,  no  doubt,  but  the  Witan  hath  its  yea  or  its 
nay,  and  the  Witan  and  Commons  are  seldom  at  issue 
thereon.  Thy  duke  King  of  England!  Marry!  Ha! 
ha!" 


HAROLD  263 

"Brute!"  muttered  the  knight  to  himself;  then 
adding  aloud,  with  his  old  tone  of  irony  (now  much 
habitually  subdued  by  years  and  discretion),  "  Why 
takest  thou  so  the  part  of  the  ceorls?  thou  a  captain, 
and  well-nigh  a  thegn!" 

"  I  was  born  a  ceorl,  and  my  father  before  me,"  re- 
turned Sexwolf,  "and  I  feel  with  my  class;"  though 
my  grandson  may  rank  with  the  thegns,  and,  for  aught 
I  know,  with  the  earls." 

The  Sire  de  Graville  involuntarily  drew  off  from  the 
Saxon's  side,  as  if  made  suddenly  aware  that  he  had 
grossly  demeaned  himself  in  such  unwitting  familiar- 
ity with  a  ceorl,  and  a  ceorl's  son ;  and  he  said,  with  a 
much  more  careless  accent  and  lofty  port  than  before: 

"  Good  man,  thou  wert  a  ceorl,  and  now  thou  lead- 
est  Earl  Harold's  men  to  the  war!  How  is  this?  I 
do  not  quite  comprehend  it." 

"How  shouldst  thou,  poor  Norman?"  replied  the 
Saxon,  compassionately.  "  The  tale  is  soon  told. 
Know  that  when  Harold  our  Earl  was  banished,  and 
his  lands  taken,  we  his  ceorls  helped  with  his  six- 
haendman,  Clapa,  to  purchase  his  land,  nigh  by  Lon- 
don, and  the  house  wherein  thou  didst  find  me,  of  a 
stranger,  thy  countryman,  to  whom  they  were  law- 
lessly given.  And  we  tilled  the  land,  we  tended  the 
herds,  and  we  kept  the  house  till  the  Earl  came  back." 

"  Ye  had  moneys  then,  moneys  of  your  own,  ye 
ceorls!"  said  the  Norman,  avariciously. 

"  How  else  could  we  buy  our  freedom?  Every 
ceorl  hath  some  hours  to  himself  to  employ  to  his 
profit,  and  can  lay  by  for  his  own  ends.  These  sav- 
ings we  gave  up  for  our  Earl,  and  when  the  Earl  came 
back,  he  gave  the  sixhaendman  hides  of  land  enow  to 
make  him  a  thegn;  and  he  gave  the  ceorls  who  hade 


264  HAROLD 

holpen  Clapa,  their  freedom  and  broad  shares  of  his 
hoc-land,  and  most  of  them  now  hold  their  own 
ploughs  and  feed  their  own  herds.  But  I  loved  the 
Earl  (having  no  wife)  better  than  swine  and  glebe, 
and  I  prayed  him  to  let  me  serve  him  in  arms.  And 
so  I  have  risen,  as  with  us  ceorls  can  rise." 

"  I  am  answered,"  said  Mallet  de  Graville,  thought- 
fully, and  still  somewhat  perplexed.  "  But  these 
theowes,  (they  are  slaves,)  never  rise.  It  cannot  mat- 
ter to  them  whether  shaven  Norman  or  bearded  Saxon 
sit  on  the  throne?  " 

"  Thou  art  right  there,"  answered  the  Saxon ;  "  it 
matters  as  little  to  them  as  it  doth  to  thy  thieves  and 
felons,  for  many  of  them  are  felons  and  thieves,  or 
the  children  of  such;  and  most  of  those  who  are  not, 
it  is  said,  are  not  Saxons,  but  the  barbarous  folks 
whom  the  Saxons  subdued.  No,  wretched  things, 
and  scarce  men,  they  care  nought  for  the  land.  How- 
beit,  even  they  are  not  without  hope,  for  the  Church 
takes  their  part;  and  that,  at  least,  I  for  one  think 
Church-worthy,"  added  the  Saxon  with  a  softened 
eye.  "  And  every  abbot  is  bound  to  set  free  three 
theowes  on  his  lands,  and  few  who  own  theowes  die 
without  freeing  some  by  their  will;  so  that  the  sons  of 
theowes  may  be  thegns,  and  thegns  some  of  them  are 
at  this  day." 

"Marvels!"  cried  the  Norman.  "But  surely  they 
bear  a  stain  and  stigma,  and  their  fellow-thegns  flout 
them?" 

"  Not  a  whit — why  so?  land  is  land,  money  money. 
Little,  I  trow,  care  we  what  a  man's  father  may  have 
been,  if  the  man  himself  hath  his  ten  hides  or  more 
of  good  boc-land." 

"  Ye  value  land  and  the  moneys,"  said  the  Norman, 
"  so  do  we,  but  we  value  more  name  and  birth." 


HAROLD  265 

"  Ye  are  still  in  your  leading-strings,  Norman,"  re- 
plied the  Saxon,  waxing  good-humoured  in  his  con- 
tempt. "  We  have  an  old  saying  and  a  wise  one,  '  All 
come  from  Adam  except  Tib  the  ploughman:  but 
when  Tib  grows  rich  all  call  him  "  dear  brother." ' 

"  With  such  pestilent  notions,"  quoth  the  Sire  de 
Graville,  no  longer  keeping  temper,  "  I  do  not  wonder 
that  our  fathers  of  Norway  and  Daneland  beat  ye  so 
easily.  The  love  for  things  ancient— creed,  lineage, 
and  name,  is  better  steel  against  the  stranger  than 
your  smiths  ever  welded." 

Therewith,  and  not  waiting  for  Sexwolf's  reply,  he 
clapped  spurs  to  his  palfrey,  and  soon  entered  the 
courtyard  of  the  convent. 

A  monk  of  the  order  of  St.  Benedict,  then  most  in 
favour,1  ushered  the  noble  visitor  into  the  cell  of  the 
abbot;  who,  after  gazing  at  him  a  moment  in  won- 
der and  delight,  clasped  him  to  his  breast  and  kissed 
him  heartily  on  brow  and  cheek. 

"  Ah,  Guillaume,"  he  exclaimed  in  the  Norman 
tongue,  "  this  is  indeed  a  grace  for  which  to  sing 
Jubilate.  Thou  canst  not  guess  how  welcome  is  the 
face  of  a  countryman  in  this  horrible  land  of  ill-cooking 
and  exile." 

"  Talking  of  grace,  my  dear  father,  and  food,"  said 
De  Graville,  loosening  the  cincture  of  the  tight  vest 
which  gave  him  the  shape  of  a  wasp — for  even  at  that 
early  period,  small  waists  were  in  vogue  with  the  war- 
like fops  of  the  French  Continent — "  talking  of  grace, 
the  sooner  thou  say'st  it  over  some  friendly  refection, 
the  more  will  the  Latin  sound  unctuous  and  musical. 
I  have  journeyed  since  daybreak,  and  am  now  hun- 
gered and  faint." 

1  Indeed,  apparently  the  only  monastic  order  in  England. 


266  HAROLD 

"  Alack,  alack !  "  cried  the  abbot,  plaintively,  "  thou 
knowest  little,  my  son,  what  hardships  we  endure  in 
these  parts,  how  larded  our  larders,  and  how  nefarious 
our  fare.  The  flesh  of  swine  salted — " 

"  The  flesh  of  Beelzebub,"  cried  Mallet  de  Graville, 
aghast.  "  But  comfort  thee,  I  have  stores  on  my 
sumpter-mules — ponlardes  and  fishes,  and  other  not 
despicable  comestibles,  and  a  few  flasks  of  wine,  not 
pressed,  laud  the  saints!  from  the  vines  of  this  coun- 
try: wherefore,  wilt  thou  see  to  it,  and  instruct  thy 
cooks  how  to  season  the  cheer?" 

"No  cooks  have  I  to  trust  to,"  replied  the  abbot; 
"of  cooking  know  they  here  as  much  as  of  Latin; 
nathless,  I  will  go  and  do  my  best  with  the  stew-pans. 
Meanwhile,  thou  wilt  at  least  have  rest  and  the  bath. 
For  the  Saxons,  even  in  their  convents,  are  a  clean 
race,  and  learned  the  bath  from  the  Dane." 

"  That  I  have  noted,"  said  the  knight,  "  for  even  at 
the  smallest  house  at  which  I  lodged  in  my  way  from 
London,  the  host  hath  courteously  offered  me  the 
bath,  and  the  hostess  linen  curious  and  fragrant;  and 
to  say  truth,  the  poor  people  are  hospitable  and  kind, 
despite  their  uncouth  hate  of  the  foreigner;  nor  is 
their  meat  to  be  despised,  plentiful  and  succulent;  but 
pardex,  as  thou  sayest,  little  helped  by  the  art  of  dress- 
ing. Wherefore,  my  father,  I  will  while  the  time  till 
the  poulardes  be  roasted,  and  the  fish  broiled  or  stewed, 
by  the  ablutions  thou  profferest  me.  I  shall  tarry  with 
thee  some  hours,  for  I  have  much  to  learn." 

The  abbot  then  led  the  Sire  de  Graville  by  the  hand 
to  the  cell  of  honour  and  guestship,  and  having  seen 
that  the  bath  prepared  was  of  warmth  sufficient,  for 
both  Norman  and  Saxon  (hardy  men  as  they  seem  to 
us  from  afar)  so  shuddered  at  the  touch  of  cold  water, 


HAROLD  267 

that  a  bath  of  natural  temperature  (as  well  as  a  hard 
bed)  was  sometimes  imposed  as  a  penance, — the  good 
father  went  his  way,  to  examine  the  sumpter-mules, 
and  admonish  the  much  suffering  and  bewildered  lay- 
brother  who  officiated  as  cook, — and  who,  speaking 
neither  Norman  nor  Latin,  scarce  made  out  one  word 
in  ten  of  his  superior's  elaborate  exhortations. 

Mallet's  squire,  with  a  change  of  raiment,  and 
goodly  coffers  of  soaps,  unguents,  and  odours,  took  his 
way  to  the  knight,  for  a  Norman  of  birth  was  accus- 
tomed to  much  personal  attendance,  and  had  all  re- 
spect for  the  body;  and  it  was  nearly  an  hour  before, 
in  long  gown  of  fur,  reshaven,  dainty,  and  decked,  the 
Sire  de  Graville  bowed,  and  sighed,  and  prayed  be- 
fore the  refection  set  out  in  the  abbot's  cell. 

The  two  Normans,  despite  the  sharp  appetite -of  the 
layman,  ate  with  great  gravity  and  decorum,  drawing 
forth  the  morsels  served  to  them  on  spits  with  silent 
examination;  seldom  more  than  tasting,  with  looks 
of  patient  dissatisfaction,  each  of  the  comestibles;  sip- 
ping rather  than  drinking,  nibbling  rather  than  de- 
vouring, washing  their  fingers  in  rose  water  with  nice 
care  at  the  close,  and  waving  them  afterwards  grace- 
fully in  the  air,  to  allow  the  moisture  somewhat  to 
exhale  before  they  wiped  off  the  lingering  dews  with 
their  napkins.  Then  they  exchanged  looks  and  sighed 
in  concert,  as  if  recalling  the  polished  manners  of  Nor- 
mandy, still  retained  in  that  desolate  exile.  And  their 
temperate  meal  thus  concluded,  dishes,  wines,  and  at- 
tendants vanished,  and  their  talk  commenced. 

"How  earnest  thou  in  England?"  asked  the  abbot 
abruptly. 

"  Sauf  your  reverence,"  answered  De  Graville,  "  not 
wholly  for  reason  different  from  those  that  bring  thee 


268  HAROLD 

hither.  When,  after  the  death  of  that  truculent  and 
orgulous  Godwin,  King  Edward  entreated  Harold  to 
let  him  have  back  some  of  his  dear  Norman  favourites, 
thou,  then  little  pleased  with  the  plain  fare  and  sharp 
discipline  of  the  convent  of  Bee,  didst  pray  Bishop 
William  of  London  to  accompany  such  train  as  Har- 
old, moved  by  his  poor  king's  supplication,  was  pleased 
to  permit.  The  bishop  consented,  and  thou  wert  en- 
abled to  change  monk's  cowl  for  abbot's  mitre.  In 
a  word,  ambition  brought  thee  to  England,  and  am- 
bition brings  me  hither." 

"Hem!  and  how?  Mayst  thou  thrive  better  than 
I  in  this  swine-sty!  " 

"  You  remember,"  renewed  De  Graville,  "  that  Lan- 
franc,  the  Lombard,  was  pleased  to  take  interest  in  my 
fortunes,  then  not  the  most  flourishing,  and  after  his 
return  from  Rome,  with  the  Pope's  dispensation  for 
Count  William's  marriage  with  his  cousin,  he  became 
William's  most  trusted  adviser.  Both  William  and 
Lanfranc  were  desirous  to  set  an  example  of  learning 
to  our  Latinless  nobles,  and  therefore  my  scholarship 
found  grace  in  their  eyes.  In  brief — since  then  I  have 
prospered  and  thriven.  I  have  fair  lands  by  the  Seine, 
free  from  clutch  of  merchant  and  Jew.  I  have  founded 
a  convent,  and  slain  some  hundreds  of  Breton  maraud- 
ers. Need  I  say  that  I  am  in  high  favour?  Now  it 
so  chanced  that  a  cousin  of  mine,  Hugo  de  Magnaville, 
a  brave  lance  and  franc-rider,  chanced  to  murder  his 
brother  in  a  little  domestic  affray,  and,  being  of  con- 
science tender  and  nice,  the  deed  preyed  on  him,  and 
he  gave  his  lands  to  Odo  of  Bayeux,  and  set  off  to 
Jerusalem.  There,  having  prayed  at  the  tomb,"  (the 
knight  crossed  himself,)  "  he  felt  at  once  miraculously 
cheered  and  relieved;  but,  journeying  back,  mishaps 


HAROLD  269 

befell  him.  He  was  made  slave  by  some  infidel,  to 
one  of  whose  wives  he  sought  to  be  gallant,  par 
amours,  and  only  escaped  at  last  by  setting  fire  to  pay- 
nim  and  prison.  Now,  by  the  aid  of  the  Virgin,  he 
has  got  back  to  Rouen,  and  holds  his  own  land  again 
in  fief  from  proud  Odo,  as  a  knight  of  the  bishop's. 
It  so  happened  that,  passing  homeward  through  Lycia, 
before  these  misfortunes  befell  him,  he  made  friends 
with  a  fellow-pilgrim  who  had  just  returned,  like  him- 
self, from  the  Sepulchre,  but  not  lightened,  like  him, 
of  the  load  of  his  crime.  This  poor  palmer  lay  broken- 
hearted and  dying  in  the  hut  of  an  eremite,  where  my 
cousin  took  shelter;  and,  learning  that  Hugo  was  on 
his  way  to  Normandy,  he  made  himself  known  as 
Sweyn,  the  once  fair  and  proud  Earl  of  England,  eldest 
son  to  old  Godwin,  and  father  to  Haco,  whom  our 
Count  still  holds  as  a  hostage.  He  besought  Hugo  to 
intercede  with  the  Count  for  Haco's  release  and  re- 
turn, if  King  Edward  assented  thereto;  and  charged 
my  cousin,  moreover,  with  a  letter  to  Harold,  his 
brother,  which  Hugo  undertook  to  send  over.  By 
good  luck,  it  so  chanced  that,  through  all  his  sore 
trials,  cousin  Hugo  kept  safe  round  his  neck  a  leaden 
effigy  of  the  Virgin.  The  infidels  disdained  to  rob 
him  of  lead,  little  dreaming  the  worth  which  the  sanc- 
tity gave  to  the  metal.  To  the  back  of  the  image 
Hugo  fastened  the  letter,  and  so,  though  somewhat 
tattered  and  damaged,  he  had  it  still  with  him  on  ar- 
riving in  Rouen. 

"  Knowing,  then,  my  grace  with  the  Count,  and  not, 
despite  absolution  and  pilgrimage,  much  wishing  to 
trust  himself  in  the  presence  of  William,  who  thinks 
gravely  of  fratricide,  he  prayed  me  to  deliver  the 
message,  and  ask  leave  to  send  to  England  the  letter." 


270  HAROLD 

"  It  is  a  long  tale,"  quoth  the  abbot. 

"  Patience,  my  father!  I  am  nearly  at  the  end. 
Nothing  more  in  season  could  chance  for  my  fortunes. 
Know  that  William  has  been  long  moody  and  anxious 
as  to  matters  in  England.  The  secret  accounts  he 
receives  from  the  Bishop  of  London  make  him  see 
that  Edward's  heart  is  much  alienated  from  him,  espe- 
cially since  the  Count  has  had  daughters  and  sons; 
for,  as  thou  knowest,  William  and  Edward  both  took 
vows  of  chastity  in  youth,1  and  William  got  absolved 
from  his,  while  Edward  hath  kept  firm  to  the  plight. 
Not  long  ere  my  cousin  came  back,  William  had  heard 
that  Edward  had  acknowledged  his  kinsman  as  natural 
heir  to  his  throne.  Grieved  and  troubled  at  this,  Will- 
iam had  said  in  my  hearing,  '  Would  that  amidst  yon 
statues  of  steel,  there  were  some  cool  head  and  wise 
tongue  I  could  trust  with  my  interests  in  England! 
and  would  that  I  could  devise  fitting  plea  and  excuse 
for  an  envoy  to  Harold  the  Earl ! '  Much  had  I  mused 
over  these  words,  and  a  light-hearted  man  was  Mallet 
de  Graville  when,  with  Sweyn's  letter  in  hand,  he  went 
to  Lanfranc  the  abbot  and  said,  'Patron  and  father! 
thou  knowest  that  I,  almost  alone  of  the  Norman 
knights,  have  studied  the  Saxon  language.  And  if  the 
Duke  wants  messenger  and  plea,  here  stands  the  mes- 
senger, and  in  his  hand  is  the  plea.'  Then  I  told  my 
tale.  Lanfranc  went  at  once  to  Duke  William.  By 
this  time,  news  of  the  Atheling's  death  had  arrived, 
and  things  looked  more  bright  to  my  liege.  Duke 
William  was  pleased  to  summon  me  straightway,  and 
give  me  his  instructions.  So  over  the  sea  I  came 
alone,  save  a  single  squire,  reached  London,  learned 
the  King  and  his  court  were  at  Winchester  (but  with 
1  See  Note  to  Robert  of  Glouce'ster,  vol.  ii.  p.  372.  • 


HAROLD  271 

them  I  had  little  to  do),  and  that  Harold  the  Earl  was 
at  the  head  of  his  forces  in  Wales  against  Gryffyth  the 
Lion  King.  The  Earl  had  sent  in  haste  for  a  picked 
and  chosen  band  of  his  own  retainers,  on  his  demesnes 
near  the  city.  These  I  joined,  and  learning  thy  name 
at  the  monastery  at  Gloucester,  I  stopped  here  to  tell 
thee  my  news  and  hear  thine." 

"  Dear  brother,"  said  the  abbot,  looking  enviously 
on  the  knight,  "  would  that,  like  thee,  instead  of  enter- 
ing the  Church,  I  had  taken  up  arms!  Alike  once 
was  our  lot,  well  born  and  penniless.  Ah  me! — Thou 
art  now  as  the  swan  on  the  river,  and  I  as  the  shell 
on  the  rock." 

"  But,"  quoth  the  knight,  "  though  the  canons,  it  is 
true,  forbid  monks  to  knock  people  on  the  head,  ex- 
cept in  self-preservation,  thou  knowest  well  that,  even 
in  Normandy,  (which,  I  take  it,  is  the  sacred  college 
of  all  priestly  lore,  on  this  side  the  Alps,)  those  canons 
are  deemed  too  rigorous  for  practice:  and,  at  all  events, 
it  is  not  forbidden  thee  to  look  on  the  pastime  with 
sword  or  mace  by  thy  side  in  case  of  need.  Where- 
fore, remembering  thee  in  times  past,  I  little  counted 
on  finding  thee — like  a  slug  in  thy  cell!  No;  but  with 
mail  on  thy  back,  the  canons  clean  forgotten,  and  help- 
ing stout  Harold  to  sliver  and  brain  these  turbulent 
Welchmen." 

"Ah  me!  ah  me!  No  such  good  fortune!"  sighed 
the  tall  abbot.  "  Little,  despite  thy  former  sojourn  in 
London,  and  thy  lore  of  their  tongue,  knowest  thou 
of  these  unmannerly  Saxons.  Rarely  indeed  do  abbot 
and  prelate  ride  to  the  battle;1  and  were  it  not  for  a 

1  The  Saxon  priests  were  strictly  forbidden  to  bear  arms. — 
SPELM.  Concil.  p.  238. 
It  is  mentioned  in  the  English  Chronicles,  as  a  very  extraor- 


272  HAROLD 

huge  Danish  monk,  who  took  refuge  here  to  escape 
mutilation  for  robbery,  and  who  mistakes  the  Virgin 
for  a  Valkyr,  and  St.  Peter  for  Thor, — were  it  not,  I 
say,  that  we  now  and  then  have  a  bout  at  sword-play 
together,  my  arm  would  be  quite  out  of  practice." 

"  Cheer  thee,  old  friend,"  said  the  knight,  pityingly, 
"  better  times  may  come  yet.  Meanwhile,  now  to 
affairs.  For  all  I  hear  strengthens  all  William  has 
heard,  that  Harold  the  Earl  is  the  first  man  in  Eng- 
land. Is  it  not  so?  " 

"  Truly,  and  without  dispute." 

"  Is  he  married,  or  celibate?  For  that  is  a  ques- 
tion which  even  his  own  men  seem  to  answer  equivo- 
cally." 

"  Why,  all  the  wandering  minstrels  have  songs,  I  am 
told  by  those  who  comprehend  this  poor  barbarous 
tongue,  of  the  beauty  of  Editha  pulchra,  to  whom  it  is 
said  the  Earl  is  betrothed,  or  it  may  be  worse.  But 
he  is  certainly  not  married,  for  the  dame  is  akin  to 
him  within  the  degrees  of  the  Church." 

"Hem,  not  married!  that  is  well;  and  this  Algar, 
or  Elgar,  he  is  not  now  with  the  Welch,  I  hear." 

"No;  sore  ill  at  Chester  with  wounds  and  much 
chafing,  for  he  hath  sense  to  see  that  his  cause  is  lost. 
The  Norwegian  fleet  have  been  scattered  over  the  seas 
by  the  Earl's  ships,  like  birds  in  a  storm.  The  rebel 
,  Saxons  who  joined  Gryffyth  under  Algar  have  been 
so  beaten,  that  those  who  survive  have  deserted  their 
chief,  and  Gryffyth  himself  is  penned  up  in  his  last 
defiles,  and  cannot  much  longer  resist  the  stout  foe, 
who,  by  valorous  St.  Michael,  is  truly  a  great  cap- 

dinary  circumstance,  that  a  bishop  of  Hereford,  who  had  been 
Harold's  chaplain,  did  actually  take  sword  and  shield  against 
the  Welch.  Unluckily,  this  valiant  prelate  was  slain  so  soon, 
that  it  was  no  encouraging  example. 


HAROLD  273 

tain.  As  soon  as  Gryffyth  is  subdued,  Algar  will  be 
crushed  in  his  retreat,  like  a  bloated  spider  in  his  web; 
and  then  England  will  have  rest,  unless  our  liege,  as 
thou  hintest,  set  her  to  work  again." 

The  Norman  knight  mused  a  few  moments,  before 
he  said: 

"  I  understand,  then,  that  there  is  no  man  in  the 
land  who  is  peer  to  Harold: — not,  I  suppose,  Tostig 
his  brother?" 

"  Not  Tostig,  surely,  whom  nought  but  Harold's 
repute  keeps  a  day  in  his  earldom.  But  of  late — for 
he  is  brave  and  skilful  in  war — he  hath  done  much  to 
command  the  respect,  though  he  cannot  win  back  the 
love,  of  his  fierce  Northumbrians,  for  he  hath  holpen 
the  Earl  gallantly  in  this  invasion  of  Wales,  both  by  sea 
and  by  land.  But  Tostig  shines  only  from  his  broth- 
er's light;  and  if  Gurth  were  more  ambitious,  Gurth 
alone  could  be  Harold's  rival." 

The  Norman,  much  satisfied  with  the  information 
thus  gleaned  from  the  abbot,  who,  despite  his  igno- 
rance of  the  Saxon  tongue,  was,  like  all  his  country- 
men, acute  and  curious,  now  rose  to  depart.  The 
abbot,  detaining  him  a  few  moments,  and  looking  at 
him  wistfully,  said,  in  a  low  voice: 

"  What  thinkest  thou  are  Count  William's  chances 
of  England?" 

"  Good,  if  he  have  recourse  to  stratagem ;  sure,  if  he 
can  win  Harold." 

"  Yet,  take  my  word,  the  English  love  not  the  Nor- 
mans, and  will  fight  stiffly." 

"  That  I  believe.     But  if  fighting  must  be,  I  see  that 

it  will  be  the  fight  of  a  single  battle,  for  there  is  neither 

fortress  nor  mountain  to  admit  of  long  warfare.     And 

look  you,  my  friend,  everything  here  is  worn  out! 

VOL.  I.— 18 


274  HAROLD 

The  royai  line  is  extinct  with  Edward,  save  in  a  child, 
whom  I  hear  no  man  name  as  a  successor;  the  old 
nobility  are  gone,  there  is  no  reverence  for  old  names; 
the  Church  is  as  decrepit  in  the  spirit  as  thy  lath  mon- 
astery is  decayed  in  its  timbers;  the  martial  spirit  of 
the  Saxon  is  half  rotted  away  in  the  subjugation  to  a 
clergy,  not  brave  and  learned,  but  timid  and  ignorant; 
the  desire  for  money  eats  up  all  manhood;  the  people 
have  been  accustomed  to  foreign  monarchs  under  the 
Danes;  and  William,  once  victor,  would  have  but  to 
promise  to  retain  the  old  laws  and  liberties,  to  estab- 
lish himself  as  firmly  as  Canute.  The  Anglo-Danes 
might  trouble  him  somewhat,  but  rebellion  would  be- 
come a  weapon  in  the  hands  of  a  schemer  like  William. 
He  would  bristle  all  the  land  with  castles  and  forts,  and 
hold  it  as  a  camp.  My  poor  friend,  we  shall  live  yet 
to  exchange  gratulations, — thou  prelate  of  some  fair 
English  see,  and  I  baron  of  broad  English  lands." 

"  I  think  thou  art  right,"  said  the  tall  abbot,  cheer- 
ily, "  and  marry,  when  the  day  comes,  I  will  at  least 
fight  for  the  Duke.  Yea — thou  art  right,"  he  con- 
tinued, looking  round  the  dilapidated  walls  of  the  c^ll; 
"  all  here  is  worn  out,  and  naught  can  restore  the 
realm,  save  the  Norman  William,  or " 

"Or  who?" 

"  Or  the  Saxon  Harold.  But  thou  goest  to  see  him 
— judge  for  thyself." 

"  I  will  do  so,  and  heedfully,"  said  the  Sire  de 
Graville;  and  embracing  his  friend  he  renewed  his 
journey. 


HAROLD  275 


CHAPTER  VII 

Messire  Mallet  de  Graville  possessed  in  perfection 
that  cunning  astuteness  which  characterised  the  Nor- 
mans, as  it  did  all  the  old  pirate  races  of  the  Baltic; 
and  if,  O  reader,  thou,  peradventure,  shouldst  ever  in 
this  remote  day  have  dealings  with  the  tall  men  of  Ebor 
or  Yorkshire,  there  wilt  thou  yet  find  the  old  Dane- 
father's  wit — it  may  be  to  thy  cost — more  especially 
if  treating  for  those  animals  which  the  ancestors  ate, 
and  which  the  sons,  without  eating,  still  manage  to 
fatten  on. 

But  though  the  crafty  knight  did  his  best,  during  his 
progress  from  London  into  Wales,  to  extract  from 
Sexwolf  all  such  particulars  respecting  Harold  and  his 
brethren  as  he  had  reasons  for  wishing  to  learn,  he 
found  the  stubborn  sagacity  or  caution  of  the  Saxon 
more  than  a  match  for  him.  Sexwolf  had  a  dog's  in- 
stinct in  all  that  related  to  his  master;  and  he  felt, 
though  he  scarce  knew  why,  that  the  Norman  cloaked 
some  design  upon  Harold  in  all  the  cross-questionings 
so  carelessly  ventured.  And  his  stiff  silence,  or  bluff 
replies,  when  Harold  was  mentioned,  contrasted  much 
the  unreserve  of  his  talk  when  it  turned  upon  the  gen- 
eral topics  of  the  day,  or  the  peculiarities  of  Saxon 
manners. 

By  degrees,  therefore,  the  knight,  chafed  and  foiled, 
drew  into  himself;  and  seeing  no  farther  use  could  be 
made  of  the  Saxon,  suffered  his  own  national  scorn 
of  villein  companionship  to  replace  his  artificial  urban- 
ity. He  therefore  rode  alone,  and  a  little  in  advance 
of  the  rest,  noticing  with  a  soldier's  eye  the  character- 
istics of  the  country,  and  marvelling,  while  he  rejoiced, 


276  HAROLD 

at  the  insignificance  of  the  defences  which,  even  on  the 
Marches,  guarded  the  English  country  from  the  Cym- 
rian  ravager.1  In  musings  of  no  very  auspicious  and 
friendly  nature  towards  the  land  he  thus  visited,  the 
Norman,  on  the  second  day  from  that  in  which  he  had 
conversed  with  the  abbot,  found  himself  amongst  the 
savage  defiles  of  North  Wales. 

Pausing  there  in  a  narrow  pass  overhung  with  wild 
and  desolate  rocks,  the  knight  deliberately  summoned 
his  squires,  clad  himself  in  his  ring  mail,  and  mounted 
his  great  destrier. 

"  Thou  dost  wrong,  Norman,"  said  Sexwolf,  "  thou 
fatiguest  thyself  in  vain — heavy  arms  here  are  needless. 
I  have  fought  in  this  country  before:  and  as  for  thy 
steed,  thou  wilt  soon  have  to  forsake  it,  and  march  on 
foot." 

"  Know,  friend,"  retorted  the  knight,  "  that  I  come 
not  here  to  learn  the  horn-book  of  war;  and  for  ,the 
rest,  know  also,  that  a  noble  of  Normandy  parts  with 
his  life  ere  he  forsakes  his  good  steed." 

"  Ye  outlanders  and  Frenchmen,"  said  Sexwolf, 
showing  the  whole  of  his  teeth  through  his  forest  of 
beard,  "love  boast  and  big  talk;  and,  on  my  troth, 
thou  mayest  have  thy  belly  full  of  them  yet;  for  we 
are  still  in  the  track  of  Harold,  and  Harold  never 
leaves  behind  him  a  foe.  Thou  art  as  safe  here,  as  if 
singing  psalms  in  a  convent." 

"  For  thy  jests,  let  them  pass,  courteous  sir,"  said  the 
Norman;  "  but  I  pray  thee  only  not  to  call  me  French- 
man.2 I  impute  it  to  thy  ignorance  in  things  comely 

1  See  Note  (K),  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 

2  The  -Normans  and  French  detested  each  other ;  and  it  was 
the   Norman  who  taught  to   the  Saxon  his  own  animosities 
against  the  Frank.     A  very  eminent  antiquary,  indeed,  De  la 
Rue,  considered  that  the  Bayeux  tapestry  could   not  be  the 


HAROLD  277 

and  martial,  and  not  to  thy  design  to  insult  me. 
Though  my  own  mother  was  French,  learn  that  a  Nor- 
man despises  a  Frank  only  less  than  he  doth  a  Jew." 

"  Crave  your  grace,"  said  the  Saxon,  "  but  I  thought 
all  ye  outlanders  were  the  same,  rib  and  rib,  sibbe  and 
sibbe." 

"  Thou  wilt  know  better,  one  of  these  days.  March 
on,  master  Sexwolf." 

The  pass  gradually  opened  on  a  wide  patch  of  rug- 
ged and  herbless  waste;  and  Sexwolf,  riding  up  to  the 
knight,  directed  his  attention  to  a  stone,  on  which  was 
inscribed  the  words,  "  Hie  victor  fuit  Haroldus" — 
Here  Harold  conquered. 

"  In  sight  of  a  stone  like  that,  no  Walloon  dare 
come,"  said  the  Saxon. 

"  A  simple  and  classical  trophy,"  remarked  the  Nor- 
man, complacently,  "  and  saith  much.  I  am  glad  to 
see  thy  lord  knows  the  Latin." 

"  I  say  not  that  he  knows  Latin,"  replied  the  pru- 
dent Saxon;  fearing  that  that  could  be  no  wholesome 
information  on  his  lord's  part,  which  was  of  a  kind 
to  give  gladness  to  the  Norman — "  Ride  on  while  the 
road  lets  ye — in  God's  name." 

On  the  confines  of  Caernarvonshire,  the  troop  halted 
at  a  small  village,  round  which  had  been  newly  dug 
a  deep  military-trench,  bristling  with  palisades,  and 
within  its  confines  might  be  seen, — some  reclined  on 
the  grass,  some  at  dice,  some  drinking, — many  men, 

work  of  Matilda,  or  her  age,  because  in  it  the  Normans  are 
called  French.  But  that  is  a  gross  blunder  on  his  part;  for 
William,  in  his  own  charters,  calls  the  Normans  "  Franci." 
Wace,  in  his  "  Roman  de  Rou."  often  styles  the  Normans 
"  French ;  "  and  William  of  Poitiers,  a  contemporary  of  the 
Conqueror,  gives  them  also  in  one  passage  the  same  name. 
Still,  it  is  true  that  the  Normans  were  generally  very  tenacious 
of  their  distinction  from  their  gallant  but  hostile  neighbours. 


278  HAROLD 

whose  garbs  of  tanned  hide,  as  well  as  a  pennon  wav- 
ing from  a  little  mound  in  the  midst,  bearing  the  tiger 
heads  of  Earl  Harold's  insignia,  showed  them  to  be 
Saxons. 

"  Here  we  shall  learn,"  said  Sexwolf,  "  what  the 
Earl  is  about — and  here,  at  present,  ends  my  journey." 

"Are  these  the  Earl's  headquarters,  then? — no  cas- 
tle, even  of  wood — no  wall,  nought  but  ditch  and  pali- 
sades? "  asked  Mallet  de  Graville  in  a  tone  between 
surprise  and  contempt. 

"  Norman,"  said  Sexwolf,  "  the  castle  is  there, 
though  you  see  it  not,  and  so  are  the  walls.  The  cas- 
tle is  Harold's  name,  which  no  Walloon  will  dare  to 
confront;  and  the  walls  are  the  heaps  of  the  slain 
which  lie  in  every  valley  around."  So  saying,  he 
wound  his  horn,  which  was  speedily  answered,  and  led 
the  way  over  a  plank  which  admitted  across  the 
trench. 

"  Not  even  a  drawbridge !  "  groaned  the  knight. 

Sexwolf  exchanged  a  few  words  with  one  who 
seemed  the  head  of  the  small  garrison,  and  then  re- 
gaining the  Norman,  said:  "The  Earl  and  his  men 
have  advanced  into  the  mountainous  regions  of  Snow- 
don;  and  there,  it  is  said,  the  blood-lusting  Gryffyth  is 
at  length  driven  to  bay.  Harold  hath  left  orders  that, 
after  as  brief  a  refreshment  as  may  be,  I  and  my  men, 
taking  the  guide  he  hath  left  for  us,  join  him  on  foot. 
There  may  now  be  danger:  for  though  Gryffyth  him- 
self may  be  pinned  to  his  heights,  he  may  have  met 
some  friends  in  these  parts  to  start  up  from  crag  and 
combe.  The  way  on  horse  is  impassable:  wherefore, 
master  Norman,  as  our  quarrel  is  not  thine  nor  thine 
our  lord,  I  commend  thee  to  halt  here  in  peace  and  in 
safety,  with  the  sick  and  the  prisoners." 


HAROLD  279 

"  It  is  a  merry  companionship,  doubtless,"  said  the 
Norman;  "  but  one  travels  to  learn,  and  I  would  fain 
see  somewhat  of  thine  uncivil  skirmishings  with  these 
men  of  the  mountains;  wherefore,  as  I  fear  my  poor 
mules  are  light  of  the  provender,  give  me  to  eat  and 
to  drink.  And  then  shall  thou  see,  should  we  come 
in  sight  of  the  enemy,  if  a  Norman's  big  words  are 
the  sauce  of  small  deeds." 

"  Well  spoken,  and  better  than  I  reckoned  on,"  said 
Sexwolf,  heartily. 

While  De  Graville,  alighting,  sauntered  about  the 
village,  the  rest  of  the  troop  exchanged  greetings  with 
their  countrymen.  It  was,  even  to  the  warrior's  eye, 
a  mournful  scene.  Here  and  there,  heaps  of  ashes 
and  ruin — houses  riddled  and  burned — the  small, 
humble  church,  untouched  indeed  by  war,  but  look- 
ing desolate  and  forlorn — with  sheep  grazing  on  large 
recent  mounds  thrown  over  the  brave  dead,  who  slept 
in  the  ancestral  spot  they  had  defended. 

The  air  was  fragrant  with  spicy  smells  of  the  gale 
or  bog  myrtle;  and  the  village  lay  sequestered  in  a 
scene  wild  indeed  and  savage,  but  prodigal  of  a  stern 
beauty  to  which  the  Norman,  poet  by  race,  and 
scholar  by  culture,  was  not  insensible.  Seating  him- 
self on  a  rude  stone,  apart  from  all  the  warlike  and 
murmuring  groups,  he  looked  forth  on  the  dim  and 
vast  mountain  peaks,  and  the  rivulet  that  rushed  be- 
low, intersecting  the  village,  and  lost  amidst  copses 
of  mountain  ash.  From  these  more  refined  contem- 
plations he  was  roused  by  Sexwolf,  who,  with  greater 
courtesy  than  was  habitual  to  him,  accompanied  the 
theowes  who  brought  the  knight  a  repast,  consisting 
of  cheese,  and  small  pieces  of  seethed  kid,  with  a  large 
horn  of  very  indifferent  mead. 


280  HAROLD 

"  The  Earl  puts  all  his  men  on  Welch  diet,"  said  the 
captain,  apologetically.  "  For  indeed,  in  this  lengthy 
warfare,  nought  else  is  to  be  had !  " 

The  knight  curiously  inspected  the  cheese,  and  bent 
earnestly  over  the  kid. 

"  It  sufficeth,  good  Sexwolf,"  said  he,  suppressing 
a  natural  sigh.  "  But  instead  of  this  honey-drink, 
which  is  more  fit  for  bees  than  for  men,  get  me  a 
draught  of  fresh  water:  water  is  your  only  safe  drink 
before  fighting." 

"  Thou  hast  never  drank  ale,  then!  "  said  the  Saxon; 
"  but  thy  foreign  tastes  shall  be  heeded,  strange  man." 

A  little  after  noon,  the  horns  were  sounded,  and  the 
troop  prepared  to  depart.  But  the  Norman  observed 
that  they  had  left  behind  all  their  horses:  and  his 
squire,  approaching,  informed  him  that  Sexwolf  had 
positively  forbidden  the  knight's  steed  to  be  brought 
forth. 

"  Was  it  ever  heard  before,"  cried  Sire  Mallet  de 
Graville,  "  that  a  Norman  knight  was  expected  to 
walk,  and  to  walk  against  a  foe  too!  Call  hither  the 
villein, — that  is,  the  captain." 

But  Sexwolf  himself  here  appeared,  and  to  him  De 
Graville  addressed  his  indignant  remonstrance.  The 
Saxon  stood  firm,  and  to  each  argument  replied  sim- 
ply, "It  is  the  Earl's  orders;"  and  finally  wound  up 
with  a  bluff — "Go  or  let  alone:  stay  here  with  thy 
horse,  or  march  with  us  on  thy  feet." 

"  My  horse  is  a  gentleman,"  answered  the  knight, 
"  and,  as  such,  would  be  my  more  fitting  companion. 
But  as  it  is,  I  yield  to  compulsion — I  bid  thee  sol- 
emnly observe,  by  compulsion;  so  that  it  may  never 
be  said  of  William  Mallet  de  Graville,  that  he  walked, 
bon  grt,  to  battle."  With  that,  he  loosened  hia  sword 


HAROLD  281 

in  the  sheath,  and,  still  retaining  his  ring  mail,  fitting 
close  as  a  shirt,  strode  on  with  the  rest. 

A  Welch  guide,  subject  to  one  of  the  Underkings 
(who  was  in  allegiance  to  England,  and  animated,  as 
many  of  those  petty  chiefs  were,  with  a  vindictive  jeal- 
ousy against  the  rival  tribe  of  Gryffyth,  far  more  in- 
tense than  his  dislike  of  the  Saxon),  led  the  way. 

The  road  wound  for  some  time  along  the  course 
of  the  river  Conway;  Penmaen-mawr  loomed  before 
them.  Not  a  human  being  came  in  sight,  not  a  goat 
was  seen  on  the  distant  ridges,  not  a  sheep  on  the 
pastures.  The  solitude  in  the  glare  of  the  broad 
August  sun  was  oppressive.  Some  houses  they  passed 
— if  buildings  of  rough  stones,  containing  but  a  single 
room,  can  be  called  houses — but  they  were  deserted. 
Desolation  preceded  their  way,  for  they  were  on  the 
track  of  Harold  the  Victor.  At  length,  they  passed 
the  cold  Conovium,  now  Caer-hen,  lying  low  near  the 
river.  There  were  still  (not  as  we  now  scarcely  dis- 
cern them,  after  centuries  of  havoc,)  the  mighty  ruins 
of  the  Romans, — vast  shattered  walls,  a  tower  half 
demolished,  visible  remnants  of  gigantic  baths,  and, 
proudly  rising  near  the  present  ferry  of  Tal-y-Cafn, 
the  fortress,  almost  unmutilated,  of  Castell-y-Bryn. 
On  the  castle  waved  the  pennon  of  Harold.  Many 
large  flat-bottomed  boats  were  moored  to  the  river- 
side, and  the  whole  place  bristled  with  spears  and  jave- 
lins. 

Much  comforted,  (for, — though  he  disdained  to 
murmur,  and  rather  than  forego  his  mail,  would  have 
died  therein  a  martyr, — Mallet  de  Graville  was  mightily 
wearied  by  the  weight  of  his  steel,)  and  hoping  now  to 
see  Harold  himself,  the  knight  sprang  forward  with  a 
spasmodic  effort  at  liveliness,  and  found  himself  in  the 


282  HAROLD 

midst  of  a  group,  among  whom  he  recognised  at  a 
glance  his  old  acquaintance,  Godrith.  Doffing  his 
helm  with  its  long  nose-piece,  he  caught  the  thegn's 
hand,  and  exclaimed: 

"  Well  met,  venire  de  Guillaume!  well  met,  O  Godree 
the  debonnairl  Thou  rememberest  Mallet  de  Gra- 
ville,  and  in  this  unseemly  guise,  on  foot,  and  with 
villeins,  sweating  under  the  eyes  of  plebeian  Phcebus, 
thou  beholdest  that  much-suffering  man !  " 

"  Welcome  indeed,"  returned  Godrith,  with  some 
embarrassment;  "but  how  earnest  thou  hither,  and 
whom  seekest  thou?" 

"  Harold,  thy  Count,  man — and  I  trust  he  is  here." 

"  Not  so,  but  not  far  distant — at  a  place  by  the 
mouth  of  the  river  called  Caer  Gyffin.1  Thou  shalt 
take  boat,  and  be  there  ere  the  sunset" 

"  Is  a  battle  at  hand?  Yon  churl  disappointed  and 
tricked  me;  he  promised  me  danger,  and  not  a  soul 
have  we  met." 

"  Harold's  besom  sweeps  clean,"  answered  Godrith, 
smiling.  "  But  thou  art  like,  perhaps,  to  be  in  at  the 
death.  We  have  driven  this  Welch  lion  to  bay  at  last. 
He  is  ours,  or  grim  Famine's.  Look  yonder;"  and 
Godrith  pointed  to  the  heights  of  Penmaen-mawr. 
"  Even  at  this  distance,  you  may  yet  descry  something 
grey  and  dim  against  the  sky." 

"  Deemest  thou  my  eye  so  ill  practised  in  siege,  as 
not  to  see  towers  ?  Tall  and  massive  they  are,  though 
they  seem  here  as  airy  as  masts,  and  as  dwarfish  as 
landmarks." 

"  On  that  hill-top,  and  in  those  towers,  is  Gryffyth, 
the  Welch  king,  with  the  last  of  his  force.  He  can- 
not escape  us;  our  ships  guard  all  the  coasts  of  the 
1  The  present  town  and  castle  of  Conway. 


HAROLD  283 

shore;  our  troops,  as  here,  surround  every  pass.  Spies, 
night  and  day,  keep  watch.  The  Welch  moels  (or 
beacon-rocks)  are  manned  by  our  warders.  And,  were 
the  Welch  King  to  descend,  signals  would  blaze  from 
post  to  post,  and  gird  him  with  fire  and  sword.  From 
land  to  land,  from  hill  to  hill,  from  Hereford  to  Caer- 
leon,  from  Caerleon  to  Milford,  from  Milford  to  Snow- 
don,  through  Snowdon  to  yonder  fort,  built,  they  say, 
by  the  fiends  or  the  giants, — through  defile  and 
through  forest,  over  rock,  through  morass,  we  have 
pressed  on  his  heels.  Battle  and  foray  alike  have 
drawn  the  blood  from  his  heart;  and  thou  wilt  have 
seen  the  drops  yet  red  on  the  way,  where  the  stone 
tells  that  Harold  was  victor." 

"  A  brave  man  and  true  king,  then,  this  Gryffyth," 
said  the  Norman,  with  some  admiration;  "but,"  he 
added  in  a  colder  tone,  "  I  confess,  for  my  own  part, 
that  though  I  pity  the  valiant  man  beaten,  I  honour 
the  brave  man  who  wins;  and  though  I  have  seen 
but  little  of  this  rough  land  as  yet,  I  can  well  judge 
from  what  I  have  seen,  that  no  captain,  not  of  patience 
unwearied,  and  skill  most  consummate,  could  conquer 
a  bold  enemy  in  a  country  where  every  rock  is  a  fort." 

"  So  I  fear,"  answered  Godrith,  "  that  thy  country- 
man Rolf  found;  for  the  Welch  beat  him  sadly,  and  the 
reason  was  plain.  He  insisted  on  using  horses  where 
no  horses  could  climb,  and  attiring  men  in  full  armour 
to  fight  against  men  light  and  nimble  as  swallows, 
that  skim  the  earth,  then  are  lost  in  clouds.  Har- 
old, more  wise,  turned  our  Saxons  into  Welchmen, 
flying  as  they  flew,  climbing  where  they  climbed;  it 
has  been  as  a  war  of  the  birds.  And  now  there  rests 
but  the  eagle,  in  his  last  lonely  eyrie." 

"  Thy  battles  have  improved  thy  eloquence  much, 


284  HAROLD 

Messire  Godree,"  said  the  Norman,  condescending- 
ly. "  Nevertheless,  I  cannot  but  think  a  few  light 
horse " 

"Could  scale  yon  mountain-brow?"  said  Godrith, 
laughing,  and  pointing  to  Penmaen-mawr. 

The  Norman  looked  and  was  silent,  though  he 
thought  to  himself,  "  That  Sexwolf  was  no  such  dolt 
after  all!" 


BOOK  VII 

THE   WELCH  KING 

CHAPTER   I 

The  sun  had  just  cast  his  last  beams  over  the  breadth 
of  water  into  which  Conway,  or  rather  Cyn-wy,  "  the 
great  river,"  emerges  its  winding  waves.  Not  at  that 
time  existed  the  matchless  castle,  which  is  now  the 
monument  of  Edward  Plantagenet,  and  the  boast  of 
Wales.  But  besides  all  the  beauty  the  spot  took  from 
nature,  it  had  even  some  claim  from  ancient  art.  A 
rude  fortress  rose  above  the  stream  of  Gyffin,  out  of 
the  wrecks  of  some  greater  Roman  hold,1  and  vast 
ruins  of  a  former  town  lay  round  it;  while  opposite  the 
fort,  on  the  huge  and  ragged  promontory  of  Gogarth, 
might  still  be  seen,  forlorn  and  grey,  the  wrecks  of 
the  imperial  city,  destroyed  ages  before  by  lightning. 

All  these  remains  of  a  power  and  a  pomp  that  Rome 
in  vain  had  bequeathed  to  the  Briton,  were  full  of  pa- 
thetic and  solemn  interest,  when  blent  with  the 
thought,  that  on  yonder  steep,  the  brave  prince  of  a 
race  of  heroes,  whose  line  transcended,  by  ages,  all  the 
other  royalties  of  the  North,  awaited,  amidst  the  ruins 
of  man,  and  in  the  stronghold  which  nature  yet  gave, 
the  hour  of  his  doom. 

But  these  were  not  the  sentiments  of  the  martial  and 
observant  Norman,  with  the  fresh  blood  of  a  new  race 
of  conquerors. 

1  See  CAMDEN'S  Britannia,  "  Caernarvonshire." 
285 


286  HAROLD 

"  In  this  land,"  thought  he,  "  far  more  even  than  in 
that  of  the  Saxon,  there  are  the  ruins  of  old ;  and  when 
the  present  can  neither  maintain  nor  repair  the  past, 
its  future  is  subjection  or  despair." 

Agreeably  to  the  peculiar  uses  of  Saxon  military 
skill,  which  seems  to  have  placed  all  strength  in  dykes 
and  ditches,  as  being  perhaps  the  cheapest  and  readiest 
outworks,  a  new  trench  had  been  made  round  the  fort, 
on  two  sides,  connecting  it  on  the  third  and  fourth 
with  the  streams  of  Gyffin  and  the  Conway.  But  the 
boat  was  rowed  up  to  the  very  walls,  and  the  Norman, 
springing  to  land,  was  soon  ushered  into  the  presence 
of  the  Earl. 

Harold  was  seated  before  a  rude  table,  and  bending 
over  a  rough  map  of  the  great  mountain  of  Penmaen ; 
a  lamp  of  iron  stood  beside  the  map,  though  the  air 
was  yet  clear. 

The  Earl  rose,  as  De  Graville,  entering  with  the 
proud  but  easy  grace  habitual  to  his  countrymen,  said, 
in  his  best  Saxon: 

"  Hail  to  Earl  Harold!  William  Mallet  de  Graville, 
the  Norman,  greets  him,  and  brings  him  news  from 
beyond  the  seas." 

There  was  only  one  seat  in  that  bare  room — the 
seat  from  which  the  Earl  had  risen.  He  placed  it 
with  simple  courtesy  before  his  visitor,  and  leaning, 
himself,  against  the  table,  said,  in  the  Norman  tongue, 
which  he  spoke  fluently: 

"  It  is  no  slight  thanks  that  I  owe  to  the  Sire  de 
Graville,  that  he  hath  undertaken  voyage  and  jour- 
ney on  my  behalf;  but  before  you  impart  your  news, 
I  pray  you  to  take  rest  and  food." 

"Rest  will  not  be  unwelcome;  and  food,  if  unre- 
stricted to  goats'  cheese,  and  kid-flesh, — luxuries  new 


HAROLD  287 

to  my  palate, — will  not  be  untempting;  but  neither 
food  nor  rest  can  I  take,  noble  Harold,  before  I  ex- 
cuse myself,  as  a  foreigner,  for  thus  somewhat  infring- 
ing your  laws  by  which  we  are  banished,  and  acknowl- 
edging gratefully  the  courteous  behaviour  I  have  met 
from  thy  countrymen  notwithstanding." 

"  Fair  Sir,"  answered  Harold,  "  pardon  us  if,  jeal- 
ous of  our  laws,  we  have  seemed  inhospitable  to  those 
who  would  meddle  with  them.  But  the  Saxon  is  never 
more  pleased  than  when  the  foreigner  visits  him  only 
as  the  friend:  to  the  many  who  settle  amongst  us  for 
commerce — Fleming,  Lombard,  German,  and  Saracen 
— we  proffer  shelter  and  welcome;  to  the  few  who, 
like  thee,  Sir  Norman,  venture  over  the  seas  but  to 
serve  us,  we  give  frank  cheer  and  free  hand." 

Agreeably  surprised  at  this  gracious  reception  from 
the  son  of  Godwin,  the  Norman  pressed  the  hand  ex- 
tended to  him,  and  then  drew  forth  a  small  case,  and 
related  accurately,  and  with  feeling,  the  meeting  of 
his  cousin  with  Sweyn,  and  Sweyn's  dying  charge. 

The  Earl  listened,  with  eyes  bent  on  the  ground,  and 
face  turned  from  the  lamp;  and,  when  Mallet  had  con- 
cluded his  recital,  Harold  said,  with  an  emotion  he 
struggled  in  vain  to  repress: 

"  I  thank  you  cordially,  gentle  Norman,  for  kindness 
kindly  rendered!  I — I — '  The  voice  faltered.  "Sweyn 
was  very  dear  to  me  in  his  sorrows!  We  heard  that 
he  had  died  in  Lycia,  and  grieved  much  and  long.  So, 

after  he  had  thus  spoken  to  your  cousin,  he — he 

Alas!  O  Sweyn,  my  brother!  " 

"He  died,"  said  the  Norman,  soothingly;  "but 
shriven  and  absolved;  and  my  cousin  says,  calm  and 
hopeful,  as  they  die  ever  who  have  knelt  at  the  Sa- 
viour's tomb!  " 


288  HAROLD 

Harold  bowed  his  head,  and  turned  the  case  that 
held  the  letter  again  and  again  in  his  hand,  but  would 
not  venture  to  open  it.  The  knight  himself,  touched 
by  a  grief  so  simple  and  manly,  rose  with  the  delicate 
instinct  that  belongs  to  sympathy,  and  retired  to  the 
door,  without  which  yet  waited  the  officer  who  had 
conducted  him. 

Harold  did  not  attempt  to  detain  him,  but  followed 
him  across  the  threshold,  and  briefly  commanding  the 
officer  to  attend  to  his  guest  as  to  himself,  said:  "  With 
the  morning,  Sire  de  Graville,  we  shall  meet  again;  I 
see  that  you  are  one  to  whom  I  need  not  excuse  man's 
natural  emotions." 

"A  noble  presence!"  muttered  the  knight,  as  he 
descended  the  stairs;  "but  he  hath  Norman,  at  least 
Norse,  blood  in  his  veins  on  the  distaff  side. — Fair 
Sir!  " — (this  aloud  to  the  officer) — "  any  meat  save  the 
kid-flesh,  I  pray  thee;  and  any  drink  save  the  mead! " 

"  Fear  not,  guest,"  said  the  officer;  "  for  Tostig  the 
Earl  hath  two  ships  in  yon  bay,  and  hath  sent  us  sup- 
plies that  would  please  Bishop  William  of  London; 
for  Tostig  the  Earl  is  a  toothsome  man." 

"  Commend  me,  then,  to  Tostig  the  Earl,"  said  the 
knight;  "  he  is  an  earl  after  my  own  heart." 


CHAPTER    II 

On  re-entering  the  room,  Harold  drew  the  large 
bolt  across  the  door,  opened  the  case,  and  took  forth 
the  distained  and  tattered  scroll: 

"  When  this  comes  to  thee,  Harold,  the  brother  of 
thy  childish  days  will  sleep  in  the  flesh,  and  be  lost 
to  men's  judgment  and  earth's  woe  in  the  spirit.  I 


HAROLD  289 

have  knelt  at  the  Tomb;  but  no  dove  hath  come  forth 
from  the  cloud, — no  stream  of  grace  hath  re-baptised 
the  child  of  wrath!  They  tell  me  now — monk  and 
priest  tell  me — that  I  have  atoned  all  my  sins;  that  the 
dread  weregeld  is  paid;  that  I  may  enter  the  world 
of  men  with  a  spirit  free  from  the  load,  and  a  name 
redeemed  from  the  stain.  Think  so,  O  brother! — Bid 
my  father  (if  he  still  lives,  the  dear  old  man!)  think 
so; — tell  Githa  to  think  it;  and  oh,  teach  Haco,  my 
son,  to  hold  the  belief  as  a  truth!  Harold,  again  I 
commend  to  thee  my  son;  be  to  him  as  a  father!  My 
death  surely  releases  him  as  a  hostage.  Let  him  not 
grow  up  in  the  court  of  the  stranger,  in  the  land  of  our 
foes.  Let  his  feet,  in  his  youth,  climb  the  green  holts 
of  England; — let  his  eyes,  ere  sin  dims  them,  drink 
the  blue  of  her  skies!  When  this  shall  reach  thee, 
thou  in  thy  calm,  effortless  strength,  wilt  be  more  great 
than  Godwin  our  father.  Power  came  to  him  with 
travail  and  through  toil,  the  geld  of  craft  and  of  force. 
Power  is  born  to  thee  as  strength  to  the  strong  man; 
it  gathers  around  thee  as  thou  movest;  it  is  not  thine 
aim,  it  is  thy  nature,  to  be  great.  Shield  my  child 
with  thy  might;  lead  him  forth  from  the  prison-house 
by  thy  serene  right  hand!  I  ask  not  for  lordships  and 
earldoms,  as  the  appanage  of  his  father;  train  him  not 
to  be  rival  to  thee: — I  ask  but  for  freedom,  and  Eng- 
lish air!  So  countine  on  thee,  O  Harold,  I  turn  my 
face  to  the  wall,  and  hush  my  wild  heart  to  peace! " 

The  scroll  dropped  noiseless  from  Harold's  hand. 

"  Thus,"  said  he,  mournfully,  "  hath  passed  away 
less  a  life  than  a  dream!  Yet  of  Sweyn,  in  owr  child- 
hood, was  Godwin  most  proud ;  who  so  lovely  in  peace, 
and  so  terrible  in  wrath?  Mv  mother  taught  him  the 
songs  of  the  Baltic,  and  Hilda  led  his  steps  through 
VOL.  I. — io 


290  HAROLD 

the  woodland  with  tales  of  hero  and  scald.  Alone  of 
our  House,  he  had  the  gift  of  the  Dane  in  the  flow  of 
fierce  song,  and  for  him  things  lifeless  had  being. 
Stately  tree,  from  which  all  the  birds  of  heaven  sent 
their  carol;  where  the  falcon  took  roost,  whence  the 
mavis  flew  forth  in  its  glee, — how  art  thou  blasted  and 
seared,  bough  and  core! — smit  by  the  lightning  and 
consumed  by  the  worm!" 

He  paused,  and,  though  none  were  by,  he  long 
shaded  his  brow  with  his  hand. 

"  Now,"  thought  he,  as  he  rose  and  slowly  paced 
the  chamber,  "  now  to  what  lives  yet  on  earth — his 
son!  Often  hath  my  mother  urged  me  in  behalf  of 
these  hostages;  and  often  have  I  sent  to  reclaim  them. 
Smooth  and  false  pretexts  have  met  my  own  demand, 
and  even  the  remonstrance  of  Edward  himself.  But, 
surely,  now  that  William  hath  permitted  this  Norman 
to  bring  over  the  letter,  he  will  assent  to  what  it  hath 
become  a  wrong  and  an  insult  to  refuse;  and  Haco  will 
return  to  his  father's  land,  and  Wolnoth  to  his  moth- 
er's arms." 


CHAPTER    III 

Messire  Mallet  de  Graville  (as  becomes  a  man  bred 
up  to  arms,  and  snatching  sleep  with  quick  grasp 
whenever  that  blessing  be  his  to  command)  no  sooner 
laid  his  head  on  the  pallet  to  which  he  had  been  con- 
signed, than  his  eyes  closed,  and  his  senses  were  deaf 
even  to  dreams.  But  at  the  dead  of  the  midnight  he 
was  wakened  by  sounds  that  might  have  roused  the 
Seven  Sleepers — shouts,  cries,  and  yells,  the  blast  of 
horns,  the  tramp  of  feet,  and  the  more  distant  roar  of 
hurrying  multitudes.  He  leaped  from  his  bed,  and  the 


HAROLD  291 

whole  chamber  was  filled  with  a  lurid  blood-red  air. 
His  first  thought  was  that  the  fort  was  on  fire.  But 
springing  upon  the  settle  along  the  wall,  and  looking 
through  the  loophole  of  the  tower,  it  seemed  as  if  not 
the  fort  but  the  whole  land  was  one  flame,  and  through 
the  glowing  atmosphere  he  beheld  all  the  ground,  near 
and  far,  swarming  with  men.  Hundreds  were  swim- 
ming the  rivulet,  clambering  up  dyke  mounds,  rushing 
on  the  levelled  spears  of  the  defenders,  breaking 
through  line  and  palisade,  pouring  into  the  enclosures; 
some  in  half-armour  of  helm  and  corselet — others  in 
linen  tunics — many  almost  naked.  Loud  sharp  shrieks 
of  "Alleluia!"1  blended  with  those  of  "Out!  out! 
Holy  crosse \"2  He  divined  at  once  that  the  Welch 
were  storming  the  Saxon  hold.  Short  time  indeed 
sufficed  for  that  active  knight  to  case  himself  in  his 
mail;  and,  sword  in  hand,  he  burst  through  the  door, 
cleared  the  stairs,  and  gained  the  hall  below,  which  was 
filled  with  men  arming  in  haste. 

"Where  is  Harold?"  he  exclaimed. 

"  On  the  trenches  already,"  answered  Sexwolf, 
buckling  his  corselet  of  hide.  "  This  Welch  hell  hath 
broke  loose." 

"  And  yon  are  their  beacon-fires?  Then  the  whole 
land  is  upon  us!  " 

1  When    (A.D.   220)    the   bishops,    Germanicus,   and   Lupus, 
headed  the  Britons  against  the  Picts  and  Saxons,  in  Easter 
week,  fresh  from  their  baptism  in  the  Alyn,  Germanicus  or- 
dered them  to  attend  to  his  war-cry,  and  repeat  it ;    he  gave 
"  Alleluia."     The  hills  so  loudly  re-echoed  the  cry,  that  the 
enemy   caught   panic,   and   fled   with  great   slaughter.     Maes 
Garmon,  in  Flintshire,  was  the'  scene  of  the  victory. 

2  The  cry  of  the  English  at  the  onset  of  battle  was  "  Holy 
Crosse,  God  Almighty ;  "  afterwards  in  fight,  "  Ouct,  ouct, ' 
out,  out. — HEARNE'S  Disc.  Antiquity  of  Motts. 

The  latter  cry,  probably,  originated  in  the  habit  of  defend- 
ing their  standard  and  central  posts  with  barricades  and  closed 
shields ;  and  thus,  idiomatically  and  vulgarly,  signified  "  get 
out." 


292  HAROLD 

"Prate  less,"  quoth  Sexwolf;  "those  are  the  hills 
now  held  by  the  warders  of  Harold:  our  spies  gave 
them  notice,  and  the  watch-fires  prepared  us  ere  the 
fiends  came  in  sight,  otherwise  we  had  been  lying  here 
limbless  or  headless.  Now,  men,  draw  up,  and  march 
forth." 

"Hold!  hold!"  cried  the  pious  knight,  crossing 
himself,  "  is  there  no  priest  here  to  bless  us?  first  a 
prayer  and  a  psalm !  " 

"Prayer  and  psalm!"  cried  Sexwolf,  astonished, 
"  an  thou  hadst  said  ale  and  mead,  I  could  have  under- 
stood thee.— Out!  Out! — Holyrood,  Holyrood!  " 

"The  godless  paynims!"  muttered  the  Norman, 
borne  away  with  the  crowd. 

Once  in  the  open  space,  the  scene  was  terrific.  Brief 
as  had  been  the  onslaught  the  carnage  was  already 
unspeakable.  By  dint  of  sheer  physical  numbers,  ani- 
mated by  a  valour  that  seemed  as  the  frenzy  of  mad- 
men or  the  hunger  of  wolves,  hosts  of  the  Britons  had 
crossed  trench  and  stream,  seizing  with  their  hands 
the  points  of  the  spears  opposed  to  them,  bounding 
over  the  corpses  of  their  countrymen,  and  with  yells 
of  wild  joy  rushing  upon  the  close  serried  lines  drawn 
up  before  the  fort.  The  stream  seemed  literally  to 
run  gore;  pierced  by  javelins  and  arrows,  corpses 
floated  and  vanished,  while  numbers,  undeterred  by 
the  havoc,  leaped  into  the  waves  from  the  opposite 
banks.  Like  bears  that  surround  the  ship  of  a  sea- 
king  beneath  the  polar  meteors,  or  the  midnight  sun 
of  the  north,  came  the  savage  warriors  through  that 
glaring  atmosphere. 

Amidst  all,  two  forms  were  pre-eminent:  the  one, 
lall  and  towering,  stood  by  the  trench,  and  behind  a 
banner,  that  now  drooped  round  the  stave,  now 


HAROLD  293 

streamed  wide  and  broad,  stirred  by  the  rush  of  men 
— for  the  night  in  itself  was  breezeless.  With  a  vast 
Danish  axe  wielded  by  both  hands,  stood  this  man, 
confronting  hundreds,  and  at  each  stroke,  rapid  as  the 
levin,  fell  a  foe.  All  round  him  was  a  wall  of  his  own 
— the  dead.  But  in  the  centre  of  the  space,  leading 
on  a  fresh  troop  of  shouting  Welchmen  who  had  forced 
their  way  from  another  part,  was  a  form  which  seemed 
charmed  against  arrow  and  spear.  For  the  defensive 
arms  of  this  chief  were  as  slight  as  if  worn  but  for 
ornament:  a  small  corselet  of  gold  covered  only  the 
centre  of  his  breast,  a  gold  collar  of  twisted  wires  cir- 
cled his  throat,  and  a  gold  bracelet  adorned  his  bare 
arm,  dropping  gore,  not  his  own,  from  the  wrist  to  the 
elbow.  He  was  small  and  slight-shaped — below  the 
common  standard  of  men — but  he  seemed  as  one  made 
a  giant  by  the  sublime  inspiration  of  war.  He  wore 
no  helmet,  merely  a  golden  circlet;  and  his  hair,  of 
deep  red  (longer  than  was  usual  with  the  Welch),  hung 
like  the  mane  of  a  lion  over  his  shoulders,  tossing 
loose  with  each  stride.  His  eyes  glared  like  the  tiger's 
at  night,  and  he  leaped  on  the  spears  with  a  bound. 
Lost  a  moment  amidst  hostile  ranks,  save  by  the  swift 
glitter  of  his  short  sword,  he  made,  amidst  all,  a  path 
for  himself  and  his  followers,  and  emerged  from  the 
heart  of  the  steel  unscathed  and  loud-breathing;  while, 
round  the  line  he  had  broken,  wheeled  and  closed  his 
wild  men,  striking,  rushing,  slaying,  slain. 

"  Pardex,  this  is  war  worth  the  sharing,"  said  the 
knight.  "  And  now,  worthy  Sexwolf,  thou  shalt  see 
if  the  Norman  is  the  vaunter  thou  deemest  him.  Dicu 
nous  aide!  Notre  Dame! — Take  the  foe  in  the  rear." 
But  turning  round,  he  perceived  that  Sexwolf  had 
already  led  his  men  towards  the  standard,  which 


294  HAROLD 

showed  them  where  stood  the  Earl,  almost  alone  in 
his  peril.  The  knight,  thus  left  to  himself,  did  not 
hesitate: — a  minute  more,  and  he  was  in  the  midst  of 
the  Welch  force,  headed  by  the  chief  with  the  golden 
panoply.  Secure  in  his  ring  mail  against  the  light 
weapons  of  the  Welch,  the  sweep  of  the  Norman  sword 
was  as  the  scythe  of  Death.  Right  and  left  he  smote 
through  the  throng  which  he  took  in  the  flank,  and 
had  almost  gained  the  small  phalanx  of  Saxons,  that 
lay  firm  in  the  midst,  when  the  Cymrian  Chief's  flash- 
ing eye  was  drawn  to  his  new  and  strange  foe,  by  the 
roar  and  the  groan  round  the  Norman's  way;  and  with 
the  half-naked  breast  against  the  shirt  of  mail,  and  the 
short  Roman  sword  against  the  long  Norman  falchion, 
the  Lion  King  of  Wales  fronted  the  knight. 

Unequal  as  seems  the  encounter,  so  quick  was  the 
spring  of  the  Briton,  so  pliant  his  arm,  and  so  rapid 
his  weapon,  that  that  good  knight  (who  rather  from 
skill  and  valour  than  brute  physical  strength,  ranked 
amongst  the  prowest  of  William's  band  of  martial 
brothers)  would  willingly  have  preferred  to  see  before 
him  Fitzosborne  or  Montgommeri,  all  clad  in  steel 
and  armed  with  mace  and  lance,  than  parried  those 
dazzling  strokes,  and  fronted  the  angry  majesty  of 
that  helmless  brow.  Already  the  strong  rings  of  his 
mail  had  been  twice  pierced,  and  his  blood  trickled 
fast,  while  his  great  sword  had  but  smitten  the  air  in 
its  sweeps  at  the  foe;  when  the  Saxon  phalanx,  taking 
advantage  of  the  breach  in  the  ring  that  girt  them, 
caused  by  this  diversion,  and  recognising  with  fierce 
ire  the  gold  torque  and  breastplate  of  the  Welch  King, 
made  their  desperate  charge.  Then  for  some  minutes 
the  pele  mele  was  confused  and  indistinct — blows  blind 
and  at  random — death  coming  no  man  knew  whence 


HAROLD  295 

or  how;  till  discipline  and  steadfast  order  (which  the 
Saxons  kept,  as  by  mechanism,  through  the  discord) 
obstinately  prevailed.  The  wedge  forced  its  way;  and, 
though  reduced  in  numbers  and  sore  wounded,  the 
Saxon  troop  cleared  the  ring,  and  joined  the  main 
force  drawn  up  by  the  fort,  and  guarded  in  the  rear 
by  its  wall. 

Meanwhile  Harold,  supported  by  the  band  under 
Sexwolf,  had  succeeded  at  length  in  repelling  farther 
reinforcements  of  the  Welch  at  the  more  accessible 
part  of  the  trenches;  and  casting  now  his  practised  eye 
over  the  field,  he  issued  orders  for  some  of  the  men 
to  regain  the  fort,  and  open  from  the  battlements,  and 
from  every  loophole,  the  batteries  of  stone  and  javelin, 
which  then  (with  the  Saxons,  unskilled  in  sieges,) 
formed  the  main  artillery  of  forts.  These  orders 
given,  he  planted  Sexwolf  and  most  of  his  band  to  keep 
watch  round  the  trenches;  and  shading  his  eye  with 
his  hand,  and  looking  towards  the  moon,  all  waning 
and  dimmed  in  the  watchfires,  he  said,  calmly,  "  Now 
patience  fights  for  us.  Ere  the  moon  reaches  yon 
hill-top,  the  troops  of  Aber  and  Caer-hen  will  be  on 
the  slopes  of  Penmaen,  and  cut  off  the  retreat  of  the 
Walloons.  Advance  my  flag  to  the  thick  of  yon 
strife." 

But  as  the  Earl,  with  his  axe  swung  over  his  shoul- 
der, and  followed  but  by  some  half-score  or  more  with 
his  banner,  strode  on  where  the  wild  war  was  now 
mainly  concentrated,  just  midway  between  trench  and 
fort,  Gryffyth  caught  sight  both  of  the  banner  and  the 
Earl,  and  left  the  press  at  the  very  moment  when  he 
had  gained  the  greatest  advantage;  and  when,  indeed, 
but  for  the  Norman,  who,  wounded  as  he  was,  and 
unused  to  fight  on  foot,  stood  resolute  in  the  van,  the 


296  HAROLD 

Saxons,  wearied  out  by  numbers,  and  falling  fast  be- 
neath the  javelins,  would  have  fled  into  their  walls, 
and  so  sealed  their  fate, — for  the  Welch  would  have 
entered  at  their  heels. 

But  it  was  the  misfortune  of  the  Welch  heroes  never 
to  learn  that  war  is  a  science;  and  instead  of  now 
centring  all  force  on  the  point  most  weakened,  the 
whole  field  vanished  from  the  fierce  eye  of  the  Welch 
King,  when  he  saw  the  banner  and  form  of  Harold. 

The  Earl  beheld  the  coming  foe,  wheeling  round,  as 
the  hawk  on  the  heron; — halted,  drew  up  his  few  men 
in  a  semicircle,  with  their  large  shields  as  a  rampart, 
and  their  levelled  spears  as  a  palisade;  and  before  them 
all,  as  a  tower,  stood  Harold  with  his  axe.  In  a  min- 
ute more  he  was  surrounded;  and  through  the  rain  of 
javelins  that  poured  upon  him,  hissed  and  glittered 
the  sword  of  Gryffyth.  But  Harold,  more  practised 
than  the  Sire  de  Graville  in  the  sword-play  of  the 
Welch,  and  unencumbered  by  other  defensive  armour 
(save  only  the  helm,  which  was  shaped  like  the  Nor- 
man's,) than  his  light  coat  of  hide,  opposed  quickness 
to  quickness,  and  suddenly  dropping  his  axe,  sprang 
upon  his  foe,  and  clasping  him  round  with  his  left 
arm,  with  the  right  hand  griped  at  his  throat: 

"  Yield  and  quarter! — yield,  for  thy  life,  son  of 
Llewellyn!" 

Strong  was  that  embrace,  and  deathlike  that  gripe; 
yet,  as  the  snake  from  the  hand  of  the  dervise — as  a 
ghost  from  the  grasp  of  the  dreamer,  the  lithe  Cym- 
rian  glided  away,  and  the  broken  torque  was  all  that 
remained  in  the  clutch  of  Harold. 

At  this  moment  a  mighty  yell  of  despair  broke  from 
the  Welch  near  the  fort:  stones  and  javelins  rained 
upon  them  from  the  walls,  and  the  fierce  Norman  was 


HAROLD  297 

in  the  midst,  with  his  sword  drinking  blood;  but  not 
for  javelin,  stone,  and  sword,  shrank  and  shouted  the 
Welchmen.  On  the  other  side  of  the  trenches  were 
marching  against  them  their  own  countrymen,  the 
rival  tribes  that  helped  the  stranger  to  rend  the  land: 
and  far  to  the  right  were  seen  the  spears  of  the  Saxon 
from  Aber,  and  to  the  left  was  heard  the  shout  of  the 
forces  under  Godrith  from  Caer-hen;  and  they  who 
had  sought  the  leopard  in  his  lair  were  now  them- 
selves the  prey  caught  in  the  toils.  With  new  heart,  as 
they  beheld  these  reinforcements,  the  Saxons  pressed 
on;  tumult,  and  flight,  and  indiscriminate  slaughter, 
wrapped  the  field.  The  Welch  rushed  to  the  stream 
and  the  trenches;  and  in  the  bustle  and  hurlabaloo, 
Gryffyth  was  swept  along,  as  a  bull  by  a  torrent;  still 
facing  the  foe,  now  chiding,  now  smiting  his  own  men, 
now  rushing  alone  on  the  pursuers,  and  halting  their 
onslaught,  he  gained,  still  unwounded,  the  stream, 
paused  a  moment,  laughed  loud,  and  sprang  into  the 
wave.  A  hundred  javelins  hissed  into  the  sullen  and 
bloody  waters.  "Hold!"  cried  Harold  the  Earl,  lift- 
ing his  hand  on  high,  "  No  dastard  dart  at  the  brave!  " 


CHAPTER   IV 

The  fugitive  Britons,  scarce  one-tenth  of  the  number 
that  had  first  rushed  to  the  attack, — performed  their 
flight  with  the  same  Parthian  rapidity  that  character- 
ised the  assault;  and  escaping  both  Welch  foe  and 
Saxon,  though  the.  former  broke  ground  to  pursue 
them,  they  gained  the  steeps  of  Penmaen. 

There  was  no  further  thought  of  slumber  that  night 
within  the  walls.  While  the  wounded  were  tended, 


298  HAROLD 

and  the  dead  were  cleared  from  the  soil,  Harold,  with 
three  of  his  chiefs,  and  Mallet  de  Graville,  whose  feats 
rendered  it  more  than  ungracious  to  refuse  his  request 
that  he  might  assist  in  the  council,  conferred  upon  the 
means  of  terminating  the  war  with  the  next  day.  Two 
of  the  thegns,  their  blood  hot  with  strife  and  revenge, 
proposed  to  scale  the  mountain  with  the  whole  force 
the  reinforcements  had  brought  them,  and  put  all  they 
found  to  the  sword. 

The  third,  old  and  prudent,  and  inured  to  Welch 
warfare,  thought  otherwise. 

"  None  of  us,"  said  he,  "  know  what  is  the  true 
strength  of  the  place  which  ye  propose  to  storm.  Not 
even  one  Welchman  have  we  found  who  hath  ever 
himself  gained  the  summit,  or  examined  the  castle 
which  is  said  to  exist  there."  * 

"  Said ! "  echoed  De  Graville,  who,  relieved  of  his 
mail,  and  with  his  wounds  bandaged,  reclined  on  his 
furs  on  the  floor.  "  Said,  noble  sir!  Cannot  our  eyes 
perceive  the  towers?  " 

The  old  thegn  shook  his  head.  "  At  a  distance, 
and  through  mists,  stones  loom  large,  and  crags  them- 
selves take  strange  shapes.  It  may  be  castle,  may  be 
rock,  may  be  old  roofless  temples  of  heathenesse  that 
we  see.  But  to  repeat  (and,  as  I  am  slow,  I  pray  not 
again  to  be  put  out  in  my  speech) — none  of  us  know 
what,  there,  exists  of  defence,  man-made  or  Nature- 
built.  Not  even  thy  Welch  spies,  son  of  Godwin,  have 
gained  to  the  heights.  In  the  midst  lie  the  scouts 
of  the  Welch  King,  and  those  on  the  top  can  see  the 
bird  fly,  the  goat  climb.  Few  of  thy  spies,  indeed, 

1  Certain  high  places  in  Wales,  of  which  this  might  well  be 
one,  were  so  sacred,  that  even  the  dwellers  in  the  immediate 
neighbourhood  never  presumed  to  approach  them. 


HAROLD  299 

have  ever  returned  with  life;  their  heads  have  been  left 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  with  the  scroll  in  their  lips, — 
'Die  ad  inferos — quid  in  superis  novisti.'  Tell  to  the 
shades  below  what  thou  hast  seen  in  the  heights 
above." 

"  And  the  Walloons  know  Latin !  "  muttered  the 
knight;  "I  respect  them!" 

The  slow  thegn  frowned,  stammered,  and  renewed: 

"  One  thing  at  least  is  clear;  that  the  rock  is  well 
nigh  insurmountable  to  those  who  know  not  the 
passes;  that  strict  watch,  baffling  even  Welch  spies, 
is  kept  night  and  day;  that  the  men  on  the  summit 
are  desperate  and  fierce ;  that  our  own  troops  are  awed 
and  terrified  by  the  belief  of  the  Welch,  that  the  spot 
is  haunted  and  the  towers  fiend-founded.  One  single 
defeat  may  lose  us  two  years  of  victory.  Gryffyth  may 
break  from  the  eyrie,  regain  what  he  hath  lost,  win 
back  our  Welch  allies,  ever  faithless  and  hollow. 
Wherefore,  I  say,  go  on  as  we  have  begun.  Beset 
all  the  country  round;  cut  off  all  supplies,  and  let  the 
foe  rot  by  famine — or  waste,  as  he  hath  done  this 
night,  his  strength  by  vain  onslaught  and  sally." 

"  Thy  counsel  is  good,"  said  Harold,  "  but  there  is 
yet  something  to  add  to  it,  which  may  shorten  the 
strife,  and  gain  the  end  with  less  sacrifice  of  life.  The 
defeat  of  to-night  will  have  humbled  the  spirits  of  the 
Welch;  take  them  yet  in  the  hour  of  despair  and  dis- 
aster. I  wish,  therefore,  to  send  to  their  outposts  a 
nuncius,  with  these  terms:  '  Life  and  pardon  to  all  who 
lay  down  arms  and  surrender.' ' 

"What,  after  such  havoc  and  gore?"  cried  one  of 
the  thegns. 

"  They  defend  their  own  soil,"  replied  the  Earl  sim- 
ply: "had  not  we  done  the  same?" 


3oo  HAROLD 

"But  the  rebel  Gryffyth?"  asked  the  old  thegn, 
"  thou  canst  not  accept  him  again  as  crowned  sub-king 
of  Edward?" 

"  No,"  said  the  Earl,  "  I  propose  to  exempt  Gryffyth 
alone  from  the  pardon,  with  promise,  nathless,  of  lift 
if  he  give  himself  up  as  prisoner;  and  count,  without 
further  condition,  on  the  King's  mercy."  There  was 
a  prolonged  silence.  None  spoke  against  the  Earl's 
proposal,  though  the  two  younger  thegns  misliked  it 
much. 

At  last  said  the  elder,  "  But  hast  thou  thought  who 
will  carry  this  message?  Fierce  and  wild  are  yon 
blood-dogs;  and  man  must  needs  shrive  soul  and  make 
will,  if  he  will  go  to  their  kennel." 

"  I  feel  sure  that  my  bode  will  be  safe,"  answered 
Harold:  "  for  Gryffyth  has  all  the  pride  of  a  king,  and, 
sparing  neither  man  nor  child  in  the  onslaught,  will 
respect  what  the  Roman  taught  his  sires  to  respect — 
envoy  from  chief  to  chief — as  a  head  scatheless  and 
sacred." 

"  Choose  whom  thou  wilt,  Harold,"  said  one  of  the 
young  thegns,  laughing,  "but  spare  thy  friends;  and 
whomsoever  thou  choosest,  pay  his  widow  the  were- 
geld." 

"  Fair  sirs,"  then  said  De  Graville,  "  if  ye  think  that 
I,  though  a  stranger,  could  serve  you  as  nuncius,  it 
would  be  a  pleasure  to  me  to  undertake  this  mission. 
First,  because,  being  curious  as  concerns  forts  and  cas- 
tles, I  would  fain  see  if  mine  eyes  have  deceived  me  in 
taking  yon  towers  for  a  hold  of  great  might.  Sec- 
ondly, because  that  same  wild-cat  of  a  king  must  have 
a  court  rare  to  visit.  And  the  only  reflection  that 
withholds  my  pressing  the  offer  as  a  personal  suit  is, 
that  though  I  have  some  words  of  the  Breton  jargon 


HAROLD  301 

at  my  tongue's  need,  I  cannot  pretend  to  be  a  Tully 
in  Welch;  howbeit,  since  it  seems  that  one,  at  least, 
among  them  knows  something  of  Latin,  I  doubt  not 
but  what  I  shall  get  out  my  meaning!  " 

"  Nay,  as  to  that,  Sire  de  Graville,"  said  Harold, 
who  seemed  well  pleased  with  the  knight's  offer, 
"  there  shall  be  no  hindrance  or  let,  as  I  will  make 
clear  to  you ;  and  in  spite  of  what  you  have  just  heard, 
Gryffyth  shall  harm  you  not  in  limb  or  in  life.  But, 
kindly  and  courteous  Sir,  will  your  wounds  permit  the 
journey,  not  long,  but  steep  and  laborious,  and  only 
to  be  made  on  foot?  " 

"On  foot!"  said  the  knight,  a  little  staggered, 
"  Pardcx!  well  and  truly,  I  did  not  count  upon  that!  " 

"  Enough,"  said  Harold,  turning  away  in  evident 
disappointment,  "  think  of  it  no  more." 

"  Nay,  by  your  leave,  what  I  have  once  said  I  stand 
to,"  returned  the  knight ;  "  albeit,  you  may  as  well 
cleave  in  two  one  of  those  respectable  centaurs  of 
which  we  have  read  in  our  youth,  as  part  Norman  and 
horse.  I  will  forthwith  go  to  my  chamber,  and  ap- 
parel myself  becomingly — not  forgetting,  in  case  of  the 
worst,  to  wear  my  mail  under  my  robe.  Vouchsafe  me 
but  an  armourer,  just  to  rivet  up  the  rings  through 
which  scratched  so  felinely  the  paw  of  that  well- 
appelled  Griffin." 

"  I  accept  your  offer  frankly,"  said  Harold,  "  and  all 
shall  be  prepared  for  you,  as  soon  as  you  yourself  will 
re-seek  me  here." 

The  knight  rose,  and  though  somewhat  stiff  and 
smarting  with  his  wounds,  left  the  room  lightly,  sum- 
moned his  armourer  and  squire,  and  having  dressed 
with  all  the  care  and  pomp  habitual  to  a  Norman,  his 
gold  chain  round  his  neck,  and  his  vest  stiff  with 


302  HAROLD 

broidery,  he  re-entered  the  apartment  of  Harold.  The 
Earl  received  him  alone,  and  came  up  to  him  with  a 
cordial  face.  "  I  thank  thee  more,  brave  Norman, 
than  I  ventured  to  say  before  my  thegns,  for  I  tell  thee 
frankly,  that  my  intent  and  aim  are  to  save  the  life  of 
this  brave  king;  and  thou  canst  well  understand  that 
every  Saxon  amongst  us  must  have  his  blood  warmed 
by  contest,  and  his  eyes  blind  with  national  hate.  You 
alone,  as  a  stranger,  see  the  valiant  warrior  and  hunted 
prince,  and  as  such  you  can  feel  for  him  the  noble  pity 
of  manly  foes." 

"  That  is  true,"  said  De  Graville,  a  little  surprised, 
"  though  we  Normans  are  at  least  as  fierce  as  you 
Saxons,  when  we  have  once  tasted  blood;  and  I  own 
nothing  would  please  me  better  than  to  dress  that 
catamaran  in  mail,  put  a  spear  in  its  claws,  and  a  horse 
under  its  legs,  and  thus  fight  out  my  disgrace  at  being 
so  clawed  and  mauled  by  its  griffes.  And  though  I 
respect  a  brave  knight  in  distress,  I  can  scarce  extend 
my  compassion  to  a  thing  that  fights  against  all  rule, 
martial  and  kingly." 

The  Earl  smiled  gravely.  "  It  is  the  mode  in  which 
his  ancestors  rushed  on  the  spears  of  Caesar.  Pardon 
him." 

"  I  pardon  him,  at  your  gracious  request,"  quoth 
the  knight,  with  a  grand  air,  and  waving  his  hands; 
"  say  on." 

"  You  will  proceed  with  a  Welch  monk — whom, 
though  not  of  the  faction  of  Gryffyth,  all  Welchmen 
respect — to  the  mouth  of  a  frightful  pass,  skirting  the 
river;  the  monk  will  bear  aloft  the  holy  rood  in  signal 
of  peace.  Arrived  at  that  pass,  you  will  doubtless  be 
stopped.  The  monk  here  will  be  spokesman;  and  ask 
safe-conduct  to  Gryffyth  to  deliver  my  message;  he 


HAROLD  303 

will  also  bear  certain  tokens,  which  will  no  doubt  win 
the  way  for  you." 

"  Arrived  before  Gryffyth,  the  monk  will  accost 
him;  mark  and  heed  well  his  gestures,  since  thou  wilt 
know  not  the  Welch  tongue  he  employs.  And  when 
'he  raises  the  rood,  thou, — in  the  mean  while,  having 
artfully  approached  close  to  Gryffyth, — wilt  whisper 
in  Saxon,  which  he  well  understands,  and  pressing  the 
ring  I  now  give  thee  into  his  hand,  '  Obey,  by  this 
pledge;  thou  knowest  Harold  is  true,  and  thy  head  is 
sold  by  thine  own  people.'  If  he  asks  more  thou 
knowest  nought." 

"  So  far,  this  is  as  should  be  from  chief  to  chief," 
said  the  Norman,  touched,  "  and  thus  had  Fitzosborne 
done  to  his  foe.  I  thank  thee  for  this  mission,  and  the 
more  that  thou  hast  not  asked  me  to  note  the  strength 
of  the  bulwark,  and  number  the  men  that  may  keep  it." 

Again  Harold  smiled.  "  Praise  me  not  for  this, 
noble  Norman — we  plain  Saxons  have  not  your  refine- 
ments. If  ye  are  led  to  the  summit,  which  I  think  ye 
will  not  be,  the  monk  at  least  will  have  eyes  to  see,  and 
tongue  to  relate.  But  to  thee  I  confide  this  much; — 
I  know  already,  that  Gryffyth's  strongholds  are  not  his 
walls  and  his  towers,  but  the  superstition  of  our  men, 
and  the  despair  of  his  own.  I  could  win  those  heights, 
as  I  have  won  heights  as  cloudcapt,  but  with  fearful 
loss  of  my  own  troops,  and  the  massacre  of  every  foe. 
Both  I  would  spare,  if  I  may." 

"  Yet  thou  hast  not  shown  such  value  for  life,  in  the 
solitudes  I  passed,"  said  the  knight  bluntly. 

Harold  turned  pale,  but  said  firmly,  "  Sire  de  Gra- 
ville,  a  stern  thing  is  duty,  and  resistless  is  its  voice. 
These  Welchmen,  unless  curbed  to  their  mountains, 
eat  into  the  strength  of  England,  as  the  tide  gnaws 


3<H  HAROLD 

into  a  shore.  Merciless  were  they  in  their  ravages  on 
our  borders,  and  ghastly  and  torturing  their  fell  re- 
venge. But  it  is  one  thing  to  grapple  with  a  foe  fierce 
and  strong,  and  another  to  smite  when  his  power  is 
gone,  fang  and  talon.  And  when  I  see  before  me  the 
faded  king  of  a  great  race,  and  the  last  band  of  doomed 
heroes,  too  few  and  too  feeble  to  make  head  against 
my  arms, — when  the  land  is  already  my  own,  and  the 
sword  is  that  of  the  deathsman,  not  of  the  warrior, — 
verily,  Sir  Norman,  duty  releases  its  iron  tool,  and 
man  becomes  man  again." 

"  I  go,"  said  the  Norman,  inclining  his  head  low  as 
to  his  own  great  Duke,  and  turning  to  the  door;  yet 
there  he  paused,  and  looking  at  the  ring  which  he  had 
placed  on  his  finger,  he  said,  "  But  one  word  more, 
if  not  indiscreet — your  answer  may  help  argument,  if 
argument  be  needed.  What  tale  lies  hid  in  this 
token?" 

Harold  coloured  and  paused  a  moment,  then  an- 
swered : 

"  Simply  this.  Gryffyth's  wife,  the  lady  Aldyth,  a 
Saxon  by  birth,  fell  into  my  hands.  We  were  storm- 
ing Rhadlan,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  isle;  she  was 
there.  We  war  not  against  women;  I  feared  the 
license  of  my  own  soldiers,  and  I  sent  the  lady  to 
Gryffyth.  Aldyth  gave  me- this  ring  on  parting;  and 
T  bade  her  tell  Gryffyth  that  whenever,  at  the  hour 
of  his  last  peril  and  sorest  need,  I  sent  that  ring  back 
to  him,  he  might  hold  it  the  pledge  of  his  life." 

"  Is  this  lady,  think  you,  in  the  stronghold  with  her 
lord  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  sure,  but  I  fear  yes,"  answered  Harold. 

"  Yet  one  word :  And  if  Gryffyth  refuse,  despite  all 
warning?  " 


HAROLD  305 

Harold's  eyes  drooped. 

"  If  so,  he  dies;  but  not  by  the  Saxon  sword.     God 
and  our  lady  speed  you !  " 


CHAPTER  V 

On  the  height  called  Pen-y-Dinas  (or  "  Head  of  the 
City  ")  forming  one  of  the  summits  of  Penmaen-mawr, 
and  in  the  heart  of  that  supposed  fortress  which  no  eye 
in  the  Saxon  camp  had  surveyed,1  reclined  Gryffyth, 
the  hunted  King.  Nor  is  it  marvellous  that  at  that 
day  there  should  be  disputes  as  to  the  nature  and 
strength  of  the  supposed  bulwark,  since,  in  times  the 
most  recent,  and  among  antiquaries  the  most  learned, 
the  greatest  discrepancies  exist,  not  only  as  to  theoreti- 
cal opinion,  but  plain  matter  of  observation,  and  simple 
measurement.  The  place,  however,  I  need  scarcely 
say,  was  not  as  we  see  it  now,  with  its  foundations  of 
gigantic  ruin,  affording  ample  space  for  conjecture; 
yet,  even  then*  a  wreck  as  of  Titans,  its  date  and  pur- 
pose were  lost  in  remote  antiquity. 

The  central  area  (in  which  the  Welch  King  now  re- 
clined) formed  an  oval  barrow  of  loose  stones:  whether 
so  left  from  the  origin,  or  the  relics  of  some  vanished 
building,  was  unknown  even  to  bard  and  diviner. 
Round  this  space  were  four  strong  circumvallations  of 
loose  stones,  with  a  space  about  eighty  yards  between 
each;  the  walls  themselves  generally  about  eight  feet 
wide,  but  of  various  height,  as  the  stones  had  fallen  by 
time  and  blast.  Along  these  walls  rose  numerous  and 
almost  countless  circular  buildings,  which  might  pass 
for  towers,  though  only  a  few  had  been  recently  and 

1  See  Note  (L),  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 
VOL.  I.— 20 


306  HAROLD 

rudely  roofed  in.  To  the  whole  of  this  quadruple  en- 
closure there  was  but  one  narrow  entrance,  now  left 
open  as  if  in  scorn  of  assault;  and  a  winding  narrow 
pass  down  the  mountain,  with  innumerable  curves, 
alone  led  to  the  single  threshold.  Far  down  the  hill, 
walls  again  were  visible;  and  the  whole  surface  of  the 
steep  soil,  more  than  half  way  in  the  descent,  was 
heaped  with  vast  loose  stones,  as  if  the  bones  of  a  dead 
city.  But  beyond  the  innermost  enclosure  of  the  fort 
(if  fort,  or  sacred  enclosure,  be  the  correcter  name), 
rose,  thick  and  frequent,  other  mementos  of  the  Briton; 
many  cromlechs,  already  shattered  and  shapeless;  the 
ruins  of  stone  houses;  and  high  over  all,  those  up- 
raised, mighty  amber  piles,  as  at  Stonehenge,  once 
reared,  if  our  dim  learning  be  true,  in  honour  to  Bel, 
or  Bal-Huan,1  the  idol  of  the  sun.  All,  in  short, 
showed  that  the  name  of  the  place,  "  the  Head  of  the 
City,"  told  its  tale ;  all  announced  that,  there,  once  the 
Celt  had  his  home,  and  the  gods  of  the  Druid  their 
worship.  And  musing  amidst  these  skeletons  of  the 
past,  lay  the  doomed  son  of  Pen-Dragon. 

Beside  him  a  kind  of  throne  had  been  raised  with 
stones,  and  over  it  was  spread  a  tattered  and  faded 
velvet  pall.  On  this  throne  sat  Aldyth  the  Queen; 
and  about  the  royal  pair  was  still  that  mockery  of  a 
court  which  the  jealous  pride  of  the  Celt  king  re- 
tained amidst  all  the  horrors  of  carnage  and  famine. 
Most  of  the  officers  indeed  (originally  in  number 
twenty-four),  whose  duties  attached  them  to  the  king 
and  queen  of  the  Cymry,  were  already  feeding  the 
crow  or  the  worm.  But  still,  with  gaunt  hawk  on  his 
wrist,  the  penhebogydd  (grand  falconer)  stood  at  a 
distance;  still,  with  beard  sweeping  his  breast,  and 
1  See  Note  (M),  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 


HAROLD  307 

rod  in  hand,  leant  against  a  projecting  shaft  of  the 
wall,  the  noiseless  gosdegwr,  whose  duty  it  was  to 
command  silence  in  the  King's  hall;  and  still  the  pen- 
bard  bent  over  his  bruised  harp,  which  once  had 
thrilled,  through  the  fair  vaults  of  Caerleon  and  Rhal- 
dan,  in  high  praise  of  God,  and  the  King,  and  the  Hero 
Dead.  In  the  pomp  of  gold  dish  and  vessel l  the  board 
was  spread  on  the  stones  for  the  King  and  Queen; 
and  on  the  dish  was  the  last  fragment  of  black  bread, 
and  in  the  vessel  full  and  clear,  the  water  from  the 
spring  that  bubbled  up  everlastingly  through  the 
bones  of  the  dead  city. 

Beyond  this  innermost  space,  round  a  basin  of  rock, 
through  which  the  stream  overflowed  as  from  an  arti- 
ficial conduit,  lay  the  wounded  and  exhausted,  crawl- 
ing, turn  by  turn,  to  the  lips  of  the  basin,  and  happy 
that  the  thirst  of  fever  saved  them  from  the  gnawing 
desire  of  food.  A  wan  and  spectral  figure  glided  list- 
lessly to  and  fro  amidst  those  mangled,  and  parched, 
and  dying  groups.  This  personage,  in  happier  times, 
filled  the  office  of  physician  to  the  court,  and  was 
placed  twelfth  in  rank  amidst  the  chiefs  of  the  house- 
hold. And  for  cure  of  the  "  three  deadly  wounds," 

1  The  Welch  seem  to  have  had  a  profusion  of  the  precious 
metals  very  disproportioned  to  the  scarcity  of  their  coined 
money.  To  say  nothing  of  the  torques,  bracelets,  and  even 
breastplates  of  gold,  common  with  their  numerous  chiefs,  their 
laws  affix  to  offences  penalties  which  attest  the  prevalent  waste 
both  of  gold  and  silver.  Thus,  an  insult  to  a  sub-king  of 
Aberfraw  is  atoned  by  a  silver  rod  as  thick  as  the  King's 
little  finger,  which  is  in  length  to  reach  from  the  ground  to 
his  mouth  when  sitting ;  and  a  gold  cup,  with  a  cover  as  broad 
as  the  King's  face,  and  the  thickness  of  a  ploughman's  nail, 
or  the  shell  of  a  goose's  egg.  I  suspect  that  it  was  precisely 
because  the  Welch  coined  little  or  no  money,  that  the  metals 
they  possessed  became  thus  common  in  domestic  use.  Gold" 
would  have  been  more  rarely  seen,  even  amongst  the  Peru- 
vians, had  they  coined  it  into  money. 


308  HAROLD 

the  cloven  skull,  or  the  gaping  viscera,  or  the  broken 
limb  (all  three  classed  alike),  large  should  have  been 
his  fee.1  But  feeless  went  he  now  from  man  to  man, 
with  his  red  ointment  and  his  muttered  charm;  and 
those  over  whom  he  shook  his  lean  face  and  matted 
locks,  smiled  ghastly  at  that  sign  that  release  and  death 
were  near.  Within  the  enclosures,  either  lay  supine, 
or  stalked  restless,  the  withered  remains  of  the  wild 
army.  A  sheep,  and  a  horse,  and  a  dog,  were  yet  left 
them  all  to  share  for  the  day's  meal.  And  the  fire  of 
flickering  and  crackling  brushwood  burned  bright 
from  a  hollow  amidst  the  loose  stones;  but  the  animals 
were  yet  unslain,  and  the  dog  crept  by  the  fire,  winking 
at  it  with  dim  eyes. 

But  over  the  lower  part  of  the  wall  nearest  to  the 
barrow,  leant  three  men.  The  wall  there  was  so 
broken,  that  they  could  gaze  over  it  on  that  grotesque 
yet  dismal  court;  and  the  eyes  of  the  three  men,  with 
a  fierce  and  wolfish  glare,  were  bent  on  Gryffyth. 

Three  princes  were  they  of  the  great  old  line;  far 
as  Gryffyth  they  traced  the  fabulous  honours  of  their 
race,  to  Hu-Gadarn  and  Prydain,  and  each  thought  it 
shame  that  Gryffyth  should  be  lord  over  him!  Each 
had  had  throne  and  court  of  his  own;  each  his  "  white 
palace  "  of  peeled  willow  wands — poor  substitutes,  O 
kings,  for  the  palaces  and  towers  that  the  arts  of  Rome 
had  bequeathed  your  fathers!  And  each  had  been 
subjugated  by  the  son  of  Llewellyn,  when,  in  his  day 
of  might,  he  re-united  under  his  sole  sway  all  the 
multiform  principalities  of  Wales,  and  regained,  for  a 
moment's  splendour,  the  throne  of  Roderic  the  Great. 

"  Is  it,"  said  Owain,  in  a  hollow  whisper,  "  for  yon 
man,  whom  heaven  hath  deserted,  who  could  not  keep 
1  Leges  Wallicae. 


HAROLD  309 

his  very  torque  from  the  gripe  of  the  Saxon,  that  we 
are  to  die  on  these  hills,  gnawing  the  flesh  from  our 
bones?  Think  ye  not  the  hour  is  come?" 

"  The  hour  will  come,  when  the  sheep,  and  the  horse, 
and  the  dog  are  devoured,"  replied  Modred,  "  and 
when  the  whole  force,  as  one  man,  will  cry  to  Gryffyth, 
'  Thou  a  king! — give  us  bread! ' ' 

"  It  is  well,"  said  the  third,  an  old  man,  leaning  on 
a  wand  of  solid  silver,  while  the  mountain  wind,  sweep- 
ing between  the  walls,  played  with  the  rags  of  his 
robe, — "  it  is  well  that  the  night's  sally,  less  of  war 
than  of  hunger,  was  foiled  even  of  forage  and  food. 
Had  the  saints  been  with  Gryffyth,  who  had  dared  to 
keep  faith  with  Tostig  the  Saxon." 

Owain  laughed,  a  laugh  hollow  and  false. 

"  Art  thou  Cymrian,  and  talkest  of  faith  with  a 
Saxon?  Faith  with  the  spoiler,  the  ravisher  and 
butcher?  But  a  Cymrian  keeps  faith  with  revenge; 
and  Gryffyth's  trunk  should  be  still  crownless  and 
headless,  though  Tostig  had  never  proffered  the  bar- 
ter of  safety  and  food.  Hist!  Gryffyth  wakes  from 
the  black  dream,  and  his  eyes  glow  from  under  his 
hair." 

And  indeed  at  this  moment  the  King  raised  himself 
on  his  elbow,  and  looked  round  with  a  haggard  and 
fierce  despair  in  his  glittering  eyes. 

"  Play  to  us,  Harper;  sing  some  song  of  the  deeds 
of  old!" 

The  bard  mournfully  strove  to  sweep  the  harp,  but. 
the  chords  were  broken,  and  the  note  came  discordant 
and  shrill  as  the  sigh  of  a  wailing  fiend. 

"  O  King!  "  said  the  bard,  "  the  music  hath  left  the 
harp." 

"  Ha!  "  murmured  Gryffyth,  "and  Hope  the  earth  1 


3io  HAROLD 

Bard,  answer  the  son  of  Llewellyn.  Oft  in  my  halls 
hast  thou  sung  the  praise  of  the  men  that  have  been. 
In  the  halls  of  the  race  to  come,  will  bards  yet  unborn 
sweep  their  harps  to  the  deeds  of  thy  King?  Shall 
they  tell  of  the  day  of  Torques,  by  Llyn-Afangc,  when 
the  princes  of  Powys  fled  from  his  sword  as  the  clouds 
from  the  blast  of  the  wind?  Shall  they  sing,  as  the 
Hirlas  goes  round,  of  his  steeds  of  the  sea,  when  no 
flag  came  in  sight  of  his  prows  between  the  dark  isle 
of  the  Druid1  and  the  green  pastures  of  Huerdan?2 
Or  the  towns  that  he  fired,  on  the  lands  of  the  Saxon, 
when  Rolf  and  the  Northmen  ran  fast  from  his  javelin 
and  spear?  Or  say,  Child  of  Truth,  if  all  that  is  told 
of  Gryffyth  thy  King  shall  be  his  woe  and  his  shame?  " 

The  bard  swept  his  hand  over  his  eyes,  and  an- 
swered: 

"  Bards  unborn  shall  sing  of  Gryffyth  the  son  of 
Llewellyn.  But  the  song  shall  not  dwell  on  the  pomp 
of  his  power,  when  twenty  sub-kings  knelt  at  his 
throne,  and  his  beacon  was  lighted  in  the  holds  of  the 
Norman  and  Saxon.  Bards  shall  sing  of  the  hero,  who 
fought  every  inch  of  crag  and  morass  in  the  front  of 
his  men, — and  on  the  heights  of  Penmaen-mawr,  Fame 
recovers  thy  crown !  " 

"  Then  I  have  lived  as  my  fathers  in  life,  and  shall 
live  with  their  glory  in  death!"  said  Gryffyth;  "and 
so  the  shadow  hath  passed  from  my  soul."  Then 
turning  round,  still  propped  upon  his  elbow,  he  fixed 
his  proud  eye  upon  Aldyth,  and  said  gravely,  "  Wife, 
pale  is  thy  face,  and  gloomy  thy  brow;  mournest  thou 
the  throne  or  the  man?  " 

Aldyth  cast  on  her  wild  lord  a  look  of  more  terror 

1  Mona,  or  Anglesea.  *  Ireland. 


HAROLD  311 

than  compassion,  a  look  without  the  grief  that  is  gen- 
tle, or  the  love  that  reveres;  and  answered: 

"  What  matter  to  thee  my  thoughts  or  my  suffer- 
ings? The  sword  or  the  famine  is  the  doom  thou  hast 
chosen.  Listening  to  vain  dreams  from  thy  bard,  or 
thine  own  pride  as  idle,  thou  disdainest  life  for  us 
both:  be  it  so;  let  us  die!" 

A  strange  blending  of  fondness  and  wrath  troubled 
the  pride  on  Gryffyth's  features,  uncouth  and  half  sav- 
age as  they  were,  but  still  noble  and  kingly. 

"And  what  terror  has  death,  if  thou  lovest  me?" 
said  he. 

Aldyth  shivered  and  turned  aside.  The  unhappy 
King  gazed  hard  on  that  face,  which,  despite  sore  trial 
and  recent  exposure  to  rough  wind  and  weather,  still 
retained  the  proverbial  beauty  of  the  Saxon  women 
— but  beauty  without  the  glow  of  the  heart,  as  a  land- 
scape from  which  sunlight  has  vanished;  and  as  he 
gazed,  the  colour  went  and  came  fitfully  over  his 
swarthy  cheeks  whose  hue  contrasted  the  blue  of  his 
eye  and  the  red  tawny  gold  of  his  shaggy  hair. 

"  Thou  wouldst  have  me,"  he  said  at  length,  "  send 
to  Harold  thy  countryman;  thou  wouldst  have  me,  me 
— rightful  lord  of  all  Britain — beg  for  mercy?  and  sue 
for  life.  Ah,  traitress,  and  child  of  robber-sires,  {air 
as  Rowena  art  thou,  but  no  Vortimer  am  l\  Thou 
turnest  in  loathing  from  the  lord  whose  marriage-gift 
was  a  crown ;  and  the  sleek  form  of  thy  Saxon  Harold 
rises  up  through  the  clouds  of  the  carnage." 

All  the  fierce  and  dangerous  jealousy  of  man's  most 
human  passion — when  man  loves  and  hates  in  a  breath 
— trembled  in  the  Cymrian's  voice,  and  fired  his 
troubled  eye;  for  Aldyth's  pale  check  blushed  like  the 


312  HAROLD 

rose,  but  she  folded  her  arms  haughtily  on  her  breast, 
and  made  no  reply. 

"  No,"  said  Gryffyth,  grinding  teeth,  white 1  and 
strong  as  those  of  a  young  hound.  "  No,  Harold  in 
vain  sent  me  the  casket;  the  jewel  was  gone.  In  vain 
thy  form  returned  to  my  side;  thy  heart  was  away  with 
thy  captor:  and  not  to  save  my  life  (were  I  so  base  as 
to  seek  it),  but  to  see  once  more  the  face  of  him  to  whom 
this  cold  hand,  in  whose  veins  no  pulse  answers  my 
own,  had  been  given,  if  thy  House  had  consulted  its 
daughter,  wouldst  thou  have  me  crouch  like  a  lashed 
dog  at  the  feet  of  my  foe!  Oh  shame!  shame!  shame! 
oh  worst  perfidy  of  all !  Oh  sharp — sharper  than  Sax- 
on sword  or  serpent's  tooth,  is — is — " 

Tears  gushed  to  those  fierce  eyes,  and  the  proud 
King  dared  not  trust  to  his  voice. 

Aldyth  rose  coldly.  "  Slay  me  if  thou  wilt — not  in- 
sult me.  I  have  said,  '  Let  us  die! ' ' 

With  these  words,  and  vouchsafing  no  look  on  her 
lord,  she  moved  away  towards  the  largest  tower  or  cell, 
in  which  the  single  and  rude  chamber  it  contained  had 
been  set  apart  for  her. 

Gryffyth's  eye  followed  her,  softening  gradually  as 
her  form  receded,  till  lost  to  his  sight.  And  then  that 
peculiar  household  love,  which  in  uncultivated  breasts 
often  survives  trust  and  esteem,  rushed  back  on  his 
rough  heart,  and  weakened  it,  as  woman  only  can 
weaken  the  strong  to  whom  Death  is  a  thought  of 
scorn. 

He  signed  to  his  bard,  who,  during  the  conference 

1  The  Welch  were  then,  and  still  are,  remarkable  for  the 
beauty  of  their  teeth.  Giraldus  Cambrensis  observes,  as  some- 
thing very  extraordinary,  that  they  cleaned  them. 


HAROLD  313 

between  wife  and  lord,  had  retired  to  a  distance,  and 
said,  with  a  writhing  attempt  to  smile: 

"  Was  there  truth,  thinkest  thou,  in  the  legend,  that 
Guenever  was  false  to  King  Arthur?  " 

"  No,"  answered  the  bard,  divining  his  lord's 
thought,  "  for  Guenever  survived  not  the  King,  and 
they  were  buried  side  by  side  in  the  Vale  of  Avallon." 

"  Thou  art  wise  in  the  lore  of  the  heart,  and  love  hath 
been  thy  study  from  youth  to  grey  hairs.  Is  it  love, 
is  it  hate,  that  prefers  death  for  the  loved  one,  to  the 
thought  of  her  life  as  another's?"  A  look  of  the 
tenderest  compassion  passed  over  the  bard's  wan  face, 
but  vanished  in  reverence,  as  he  bowed  his  head  and 
answered : 

"  O  King,  who  shall  say  what  note  the  wind  calls 
from  the  harp,  what  impulse  love  wakes  in  the  soul — 
now  soft  and  now  stern?  But,"  he  added,  raising  his 
form,  and,  with  a  dread  calm  on  his  brow,  "  but  the 
love  of  a  king  brooks  no  thought  of  dishonour;  and  she 
who  hath  laid  her  head  on  his  breast  should  sleep  in  his 
grave." 

"  Thou  wilt  outlive  me,"  said  Gryffyth,  abruptly. 
"  This  earn  be  my  tomb!  " 

"  And  if  so,"  said  the  bard,  "  thou  shalt  sleep  not 
alone.  In  this  earn  what  thou  lovest  best  shall  be 
buried  by  thy  side;  the  bard  shall  raise  his  song  over 
thy  grave,  and  the  bosses  of  shields  shall  be  placed  at 
intervals,  as  rises  and  falls  the  sound  of  song.  Over 
the  grave  of  two  shall  a  new  mound  arise,  and  we  will 
bid  the  mound  speak  to  others  in  the  fair  days  to  come. 
But  distant  yet  be  the  hour  when  the  mighty  shall  be 
laid  low!  and  the  tongue  of  thy  bard  may  yet  chant 
the  rush  of  the  lion  from  the  toils  and  the  spears. 
Hope  still!" 


314  HAROLD 

Gryffyth,  for  answer,  leant  on  the  harper's  shoulder, 
and  pointed  silently  to  the  sea,  that  lay,  lake-like  at 
the  distance,  dark-studded  with  the  Saxon  fleet.  Then 
turning,  his  hands  stretched  over  the  forms  that, 
hollow-eyed  and  ghost-like,  flitted  between  the  walls, 
or  lay  dying,  but  mute  around  the  waterspring.  His 
hand  then  dropped,  and  rested  on  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  sudden  commotion  at 
the  outer  entrance  of  the  wall;  the  crowd  gathered  to 
one  spot,  and  there  was  a  loud  hum  of  voices.  In  a 
few  moments  one  of  the  Welch  scouts  came  into  the 
enclosure,  and  the  chiefs  of  the  royal  tribes  followed 
him  to  the  earn  on  which  the  King  stood. 

"  Of  what  tellest  thou?  "  said  Gryffyth,  resuming  on 
the  instant  all  the  royalty  of  his  bearing. 

"  At  the  mouth  of  the  pass,"  said  the  scout,  kneeling, 
"  there  are  a  monk  bearing  the  holy  rood,  and  a  chief* 
unarmed.  And  the  monk  is  Evan,  the  Cymrian,  of 
Gwentland;  and  the  chief,  by  his  voice,  seemeth  not  to 
be  Saxon.  The  monk  bade  me  give  thee  these  tokens" 
(and  the  scout  displayed  the  broken  torque  which  the 
King  had  left  in  the  grasp  of  Harold,  together  with 
a  live  falcon  belled  and  blinded),  "  and  bade  me  say 
thus  to  the  King:  Harold  the  Earl  greets  Gryffyth, 
son  of  Llewellyn,  and  sends  him,  in  proof  of  good 
will,  the  richest  prize  he  hath  ever  won  from  a  foe; 
and  a  hawk,  from  Llandudno; — that  bird  which  chief 
and  equal  give  to  equal  and  chief.  And  he  prays 
Gryffyth,  son  of  Llewellyn,  for  the  sake  of  his  realm 
and  his  people,  to  grant  hearing  to  his  nuncius." 

A  murmur  broke  from  the  chiefs — a  murmur  of  joy 
and  surprise  from  all,  save  the  three  conspirators,  who 
interchanged  anxious  and  fiery  glances.  Gryffyth's 
hand  had  already  closed,  while  he  uttered  a  cry  that 


HAROLD  315 

seemed  of  rapture,  on  the  collar  of  gold;  for  the  loss 
of  that  collar  had  stung  him,  perhaps  more  than  the 
loss  of  the  crown  of  all  Wales.  And  his  heart,  so 
generous  and  large,  amidst  all  its  rude  passions,  was 
touched  by  the  speech  and  the  tokens  that  honoured 
the  fallen  outlaw  both  as  foe  and  as  king.  Yet  in  his 
face  there  was  still  seen  a  moody  and  proud  struggle; 
he  paused  before  he  turned  to  the  chiefs. 

"  What  counsel  ye — ye  strong  in  battle,  and  wise  in 
debate? "  said  he. 

With  one  voice  all,  save  the  Fatal  Three,  exclaimed: 

"  Hear  the  monk,  O  King!  " 

"  Shall  we  dissuade?"  whispered  Modred  to  the  old 
chief,  his  accomplice. 

"  No ;  for  so  doing,  we  shall  offend  all : — and  we 
must  win  all." 

Then  the  bard  stepped  into  the  ring.  And  the  ring 
was  hushed,  for  wise  is  ever  the  counsel  of  him  whose 
book  is  the  human  heart. 

"  Hear  the  Saxons,"  said  he,  briefly,  and  with  an  air 
of  command  when  addressing  others,  which  contrasted 
strongly  his  tender  respect  to  the  King;  "hear  the 
Saxons,  but  not  in  these  walls.  Let  no  man  from  the 
foe  see  our  strength  or  our  weakness.  We  are  still 
mighty  and  impregnable,  while  our  dwelling  is  in  the 
realm  of  the  Unknown.  Let  the  King,  and  his  offi- 
cers of  state,  and  his  chieftains  of  battle,  descend  to 
the  pass.  And  behind,  at  the  distance,  let  the  spear- 
men range  from  cliff  to  cliff,  as  a  ladder  of  steel;  so 
will  their  numbers  seem  the  greater." 

"  Thou  speakest  well,"  said  the  King. 

Meanwhile  the  knight  and  the  monk  waited  below 
at  that  terrible  pass,1  which  then  lay  between  moun- 

1  I  believe  it  was  not  till  the  last  century  that  a  good  road 
took  the  place  of  this  pass. 


316  HAROLD 

tain  and  river,  and  over  which  the  precipices  frowned, 
with  a  sense  of  horror  and  weight.  Looking  up,  the 
knight  murmured: 

"  With  those  stones  and  crags  to  roll  down  on  a 
marching  army,  the  place  well  defies  storm  and  assault; 
and  a  hundred  on  the  height  would  overmatch  thou- 
sands below." 

He  then  turned  to  address  a  few  words,  with  all  the 
far-famed  courtesy  of  Norman  and  Frank,  to  the  Welch 
guards  at  the  outpost.  They  were  picked  men;  the 
strongest  and  best  armed  and  best  fed  of  the  group. 
But  they  shook  their  heads  and  answered  not,  gaz- 
ing at  him  fiercely,  and  showing  their  white  teeth,  as 
dogs  at  a  bear  before  they  are  loosened  from  the 
band. 

"They  understand  me  not,  poor  languageless  sav- 
ages!" said  Mallet  de  Graville,  turning  to  the  monk, 
who  stood  by  with  the  lifted  rood ;  "  speak  to  them 
in  their  own  jargon." 

"  Nay,"  said  the  Welch  monk,  who,  though  of  a  rival 
tribe  from  South  Wales,  and  at  the  service  of  Harold, 
was  esteemed  throughout  the  land  for  piety  and  learn- 
ing, "  they  will  not  open  mouth  till  the  King's  orders 
come  to  receive  or  dismiss  us  unheard." 

"Dismiss  us  unheard!"  repeated  the  punctilious 
Norman ;  "  even  this  poor  barbarous  King  can  scarcely 
be  so  strange  to  all  comely  and  gentle  usage,  as  to  put 
such  insult  on  Guillaume  Mallet  de  Graville.  But," 
added  the  knight,  colouring,  "  I  forgot  that  he  is  not  ad- 
vised of  my  name  and  land;  and,  indeed,  sith  thou  art 
to  be  spokesman,  I  marvel  why  Harold  should  have 
prayed  my  service  at  all,  at  the  risk  of  subjecting  a 
Norman  knight  to  affronts  contumelious." 

"  Peradventure,"  replied  Evan,  "  peradventure  thou 


HAROLD  317 

hast  something  to  whisper  apart  to  the  King,  which,  as 
stranger  and  warrior,  none  will  venture  to  question; 
but  which  from  me,  as  countryman  and  priest,  would 
excite  the  jealous  suspicions  of  those  around  him." 

"I  conceive  thee,"  said  De  Graville.  "And  see, 
spears  are  gleaming  down  the  path ;  and  per  pedes  Dom- 
ini, yon  chief  with  the  mantle,  and  circlet  of  gold  on  his 
head,  is  the  cat-king  that  so  spitted  and  scratched  in 
the  melee  last  night." 

"Heed  well  thy  tongue,"  said  Evan,  alarmed;  "no 
jests  with  the  leader  of  men." 

"  Knowest  thou,  good  monk,  that  a  facete  and  most 
Dentil  Roman  (if  the  saintly  writer  from  whom  I  take  the 
citation  reports  aright — for,  alas!  I  know  not  where 
myself  to  purchase,  or  to  steal,  one  copy  of  Horatius 
Flaccus)  hath  said  'Duke  est  desipere  in  loco'  It  is 
sweet  to  jest,  but  not  within  reach  of  claws,  whether 
of  kaisars  or  cats." 

Therewith  the  knight  drew  up  his  spare  but  stately 
figure,  and  arranging  his  robe  with  grace  and  dignity, 
awaited  the  coming  chief. 

Down  the  paths,  one  by  one,  came  first  the  chiefs, 
privileged  by  birth  to  attend  the  King;  and  each,  as 
he  reached  the  mouth  of  the  pass,  drew  on  the  upper 
side  among  the  stones  of  the  rough  ground.  Then  a 
banner,  tattered  and  torn,  with  the  lion  ensign  that  the 
Welch  princes  had  substituted  for  the  old  national 
dragon,  which  the  Saxon  of  Wessex  had  appropriated 
to  themselves,1  preceded  the  steps  of  the  King.  Be- 

1  The  Saxons  of  Wessex  seem  to  have  adopted  the  Dragon 
for  their  ensign,  from  an  early  period.  It  was  probably  for 
this  reason  that  it  was  assumed  bv  Edward  Ironsides,  as  the 
hero  of  the  Saxons;  the  principality  of  Wessex  forming  the 
most  important  portion  of  the  pure  Saxon  race,  while  its 
founder  was  the  ancestor  of  the  imperial  house  of  the  Basileus 


318  HAROLD 

hind  him  came  his  falconer  and  bard,  and  the  rest  of 
his  scanty  household.  The  King  halted  in  the  pass, 
a  few  steps  from  the  Norman  knight;  and  Mallet  de 
Graville,  though  accustomed  to  the  majestic  mien  of 
Duke  William,  and  the  practised  state  of  the  princes 
of  France  and  Flanders,  felt  an  involuntary  thrill  of  ad- 
miration at  the  bearing  of  the  great  child  of  Nature  with 
his  foot  on  his  father's  soil. 

Small  and  slight  as  was  his  stature,  worn  and  ragged 
his  mantle  of  state,  there  was  that  in  the  erect  mien  and 
steady  eye  of  the  Cymrian  hero,  which  showed  one  con- 
scious of  authority,  and  potent  in  will;  and  the  wave  of 
his  hand  to  the  knight  was  the  gesture  of  a  prince  on 
his  throne.  Nor,  indeed,  was  that  brave  and  ill-fated 
chief  without  some  irregular  gleams  of  mental  culti- 
vation, which  under  happier  auspices,  might  have  cen- 
tred into  steadfast  light.  Though  the  learning  which 
had  once  existed  in  Wales  (the  last  legacy  of  Rome) 
had  long  since  expired  in  broil  and  blood,  and  youths 
no  longer  flocked  to  the  colleges  of  Caerleon,  and 
priests  no  longer  adorned  the  casuistical  theology  of 
the  age,  Gryffyth  himself,  the  son  of  a  wise  and  famous 
father,1  had  received  an  education  beyond  the  average 
of  Saxon  kings.  But,  intensely  national,  his  mind  had 

of  Britain.  The  dragon  seems  also  to  have  been  a  Norman 
ensign.  The  lions  or  leopards,  popularly  assigned  to  the  Con- 
queror, are  certainly  a  later  invention.  There  is  no  appearance 
of  them  on  the  banners  and  shields  of  the  Norman  army  in 
the  Bayeux  tapestry.  Armorial  bearings  were  in  use  amongst 
the  Welch,  and  even  the  Saxons,  long  before  heraldry  was 
reduced  to  a  science  by  the  Franks  and  Normans.  And  the 
dragon,  which  is  supposed  by  many  critics  to  be  borrowed 
from  the  east,  through  the  Saracens,  certainly  existed  as  an 
armorial  ensign  with  the  Cymrians  before  they  could  have  had 
any  obligation  to  the  songs  and  legends  of  that  people. 

1  "  In  whose  time  the  earth  brought  forth  double,  and  there 
was  neither  beggar  nor  poor  man  from  the  North  to  the  South 
Sea." — POWELL'S  Hist,  of  Wales,  p.  83. 


HAROLD  319 

turned  from  all  other  literature,  to  the  legends,  and 
songs,  and  chronicles  of  his  land;  and  if  he  is  the  best 
scholar  who  best  understands  his  own  tongue  and  its 
treasures,  Gryffyth  was  the  most  erudite  prince  of  his 
age. 

His  natural  talents,  for  war  especially,  were  consid- 
erable ;  and  judged  fairly — not  as  mated  with  an  empty 
treasury,  without  other  army  than  the  capricious  will 
of  his  subjects  afforded,  and  amidst  his  bitterest  foes 
in  the  jealous  chiefs  of  his  own  country,  against  the  dis- 
ciplined force  and  comparative  civilisation  of  the  Saxon 
— but  as  compared  with  all  the  other  princes  of  Wales, 
in  warfare,  to  which  he  was  habituated,  and  in  which 
chances  were  even,  the  fallen  son  of  Llewellyn  had  been 
the  most  renowned  leader  that  Cymry  had  known  since 
the  death  of  the  great  Roderic. 

So  there  he  stood;  his  attendants  ghastly  with  fam- 
ine, drawn  up  on  the  unequal  ground;  above,  on  the 
heights,  and  rising  from  the  stone  crags,  long  lines  of 
spears  artfully  placed;  and,  watching  him  with  death- 
ful  eyes,  somewhat  in  his  rear,  the  Traitor  Three. 

"  Speak,  father,  or  chief,"  said  the  Welch  King  in  his 
native  tongue;  "what  would  Harold  the  Earl  of 
Gryffyth  the  King?  " 

Then  the  monk  took  up  the  word  and  spoke. 

"  Health  to  Gryffyth-ap-Llewellyn,  his  chiefs  and  his 
people!  Thus  saith  Harold,  King  Edward's  thegn:  By 
land  all  the  passes  are  watched;  by  sea  all  the  waves 
are  our  own.  Our  swords  rest  in  our  sheaths;  but 
famine  marches  each  hour  to  gride  and  to  slay.  In- 
stead of  sure  death  from  the  hunger,  take  sure  life  from 
the  foe.  Free  pardon  to  all,  chiefs  and  people,  and  safe 
return  to  their  homes, — save  Gryffyth  alone.  Let  him 
come  forth,  not  as  victim  and  outlaw,  not  with  bent  form 


320  HAROLD 

and  clasped  hands,  but  as  chief  meeting  chief,  with  his 
household  of  state.  Harold  will  meet  him,  in  honour, 
at  the  gates  of  the  fort.  Let  Gryffyth  submit  to  King 
Edward,  and  ride  with  Harold  to  the  Court  of  Basileus. 
Harold  promises  him  life,  and  will  plead  for  his  pardon. 
And  though  the  peace  of  this  realm,  and  the  fortune 
of  war,  forbid  Harold  to  say,  '  Thou  shalt  yet  be  a 
king; '  yet  thy  crown,  son  of  Llewellyn,  shall  at  least 
be  assured  in  the  line  of  thy  fathers,  and  the  race  of 
Cadwallader  shall  still  reign  in  Cymry." 

The  monk  paused,  and  hope  and  joy  were  in  the  faces 
of  the  famished  chiefs ;  while  two  of  the  Traitor  Three 
suddenly  left  their  post,  and  sped  to  tell  the  message 
to  the  spearmen  and  multitudes  above.  Modred,  the 
third  conspirator,  laid  his  hand  on  his  hilt,  and  stole 
near  to  see  the  face  of  the  King; — the  face  of  the  King 
was  dark  and  angry,  as  a  midnight  of  storm. 

Then,  raising  the  cross  on  high,  Evan  resumed. 

"  And  I,  though  of  the  people  of  Gwentland,  which 
the  arms  of  Gryffyth  have  wasted,  and  whose  prince 
fell  beneath  Gryffyth's  sword  on  the  hearth  of  his  hall 
— I,  as  God's  servant,  the  brother  of  all  I  behold,  and, 
as  son  of  the  soil,  mourning  over  the  slaughter  of  its 
latest  defenders — I,  by  this  symbol  of  love  and  com- 
mand, which  I  raise  to  the  heaven,  adjure  thee,  O 
King,  to  give  ear  to  the  mission  of  peace, — to  cast  down 
the  grim  pride  of  earth.  And  instead  of  the  crown  of 
a  day,  fix  thy  hopes  on  the  crown  everlasting.  For 
much  shall  be  pardoned  to  thee  in  thine  hour  of 
pomp  and  of  conquest,  if  now  thou  savest  from  doom 
and  from  death  the  last  lives  over  which  thou  art 
lord." 

It  was  during  this  solemn  appeal  that  the  knight, 
marking  the  sign  announced  to  him,  and  drawing  close 


HAROLD  321 

to  Gryffyth,  pressed  the  ring  into  the  King's  hand,  and 
whispered: 

"  Obey  by  this  pledge.  Thou  knowest  Harold  is 
true,  and  thy  head  is  sold  by  thine  own  people." 

The  King  cast  a  haggard  eye  at  the  speaker,  and 
then  at  the  ring,  over  which  his  hand  closed  with  a 
convulsive  spasm.  And  at  that  dread  instant  the  man 
prevailed  over  the  King;  and  far  away  from  people  and 
monk,  from  adjuration  and  duty,  fled  his  heart  on  the 
wings  of  the  storm — fled  to  the  cold  wife  he  distrusted: 
and  the  pledge  that  should  assure  him  of  life,  seemed 
as  a  love-token  insulting  his  fall: — Amidst  all  the  roar 
of  roused  passions,  loudest  of  all  was  the  hiss  of  the 
jealous  fiend. 

As  the  monk  ceased,  the  thrill  of  the  audience  was 
perceptible,  and  a  deep  silence  was  followed  by  a  gen- 
eral murmur,  as  if  to  constrain  the  King. 

Then  the  pride  of  the  despot  chief  rose  up  to  second 
the  wrath  of  the  suspecting  man.  The  red  spot  flushed 
the  dark  cheek,  and  he  tossed  the  neglected  hair  from 
his  brow. 

He  made  one  stride  towards  the  monk,  and  said,  in 
a  voice  loud,  and  deep,  and  slow,  rolling  far  up  the  hill: 

"  Monk,  thou  hast  said ;  and  now  hear  the  reply  of 
the  son  of  Llewellyn,  the  true  heir  of  Roderic  the  Great, 
who  from  the  heights  of  Eryri  saw  all  the  lands  of  the 
Cymrian  sleeping  under  the  dragon  of  Uther.  King 
was  I  born,  and  king  will  I  die.  I  will  not  ride  by  the 
side  of  the  Saxon  to  the  feet  of  Edward,  the  son  of  the 
spoiler.  I  will  not,  to  purchase  base  life,  surrender  the 
claim,  vain  before  men  and  the  hour,  but  solemn  before 
God  and  posterity — the  claim  of  my  line  and  my  people. 
All  Britain  is  ours — all  the  island  of  Pines.  And  the 
VOL.  I. — ai 


322  HAROLD 

children  of  Hengist  are  traitors  and  rebels — not  the 
heirs  of  Ambrosius  and  Uther.  Say  to  Harold  the 
Saxon,  Ye  have  left  us  but  the  tomb  of  the  Druid  and 
the  hills  of  the  eagle;  but  freedom  and  royalty  are  ours, 
in  life  and  in  death — not  for  you  to  demand  them,  not 
for  us  to  betray.  Nor  fear  ye,  O  my  chiefs,  few,  but 
unmatched  in  glory  and  truth;  fear  not  ye  to  perish  by 
the  hunger  thus  denounced  as  our  doom,  on  these 
heights  that  command  the  fruits  of  our  own  fields! 
No,  die  we  may,  but  not  mute  and  revengeless.  Go 
back,  whispering  warrior;  go  back,  false  son  of  Cymry 
— and  tell  Harold  to  look  well  to  his  walls  and  his 
trenches.  We  will  vouchsafe  him  grace  for  his  grace — 
we  will  not  take  him  by  surprise,  nor  under  cloud  of 
the  night.  With  the  gleam  of  our  spears  and  the  clash 
of  our  shields,  we  will  come  from  the  hill:  and,  famine- 
worn  as  he  deems  us,  hold  a  feast  in  his  walls  which  the 
eagles  of  Snowdon  spread  their  pinions  to  share !  " 

"  Rash  man  and  unhappy!  "  cried  the  monk;  "  what 
curse  drawest  thou  down  on  thy  head!  Wilt  thou  be 
the  murtherer  of  thy  men,  in  strife  unavailing  and 
vain?  Heaven  holds  thee  guilty  of  all  the  blood  thou 
shalt  cause  to  be  shed." 

"Be  dumb! — hush  thy  screech,  lying  raven!"  ex- 
claimed Gryffyth,  his  eyes  darting  fire  and  his  slight 
form  dilating.  "  Once,  priest  and  monk  w^nt  before  us 
to  inspire,  not  to  daunt;  and  our  cry  Alleluia!  was 
taught  us  by  the  saints  of  the  Church,  on  the  day  when 
Saxons,  fierce  and  many  as  Harold's,  fell  on  the  field 
of  Maes-Garmon.  No,  the  curse  is  on  the  head  of  the 
invader,  not  on  those  who  defend  hearth  and  altar. 
Yea,  as  the  song  to  the  bard,  the  CURSE  leaps  through 
my  veins,  and  rushes  forth  from  my  lips.  By  the  land 
they  have  ravaged ;  by  the  gore  they  have  spilt ;  on  these 


HAROLD  323 

crags,  our  last  refuge ;  below  the  earn  on  yon  heights, 
where  the  Dead  stir  to  hear  me, — I  launch  the  curse  of 
the  wronged  and  the  doomed  on  the  children  of  Hen- 
gist  !  They  in  turn  shall  know  the  steel  of  the  stranger 
— their  crown  shall  be  shivered  as  glass,  and  their  no- 
bles be  as  slaves  in  the  land.  And  the  line  of  Hengist 
and  Cerdic  shall  be  rased  from  the  roll  of  empire.  And 
the  ghosts  of  our  fathers  shall  glide,  appeased,  over  the 
grave  of  their  nation.  But  we — WE,  though  weak  in 
the  body,  in  the  soul  shall  be  strong  to  the  last!  The 
ploughshare  may  pass  over  our  cities,  but  the  soil  shall 
be  trod  by  our  steps,  and  our  deeds  keep  our  language 
alive  in  the  songs  of  our  bards.  Nor  in,  the  great 
Judgment  Day,  shall  any  race  but  the  race  of  Cymry 
rise  from  their  graves  in  this  corner  of  earth,  to  answer 
for  the  sins  of  the  brave !  " l 

So  impressive  the  voice,  so  grand  the  brow,  and  sub- 
lime the  wild  gesture  of  the  King,  as  he  thus  spoke, 
that  not  only  the  monk  himself  was  awed;  not  only, 
though  he  understood  not  the  words,  did  the  Norman 
knight  bow  his  head,  as  a  child  when  the  lightning  he 
fears  as  by  instinct  flashes  out  from  the  cloud, — but  even 
the  sullen  and  wide-spreading  discontent  at  work 

1  "  During  the  military  expeditions  made  in  our  days  against 
South  Wales,  an  old  Welchman.  at  Pencadair,  who  had  faith- 
fully adhered  to  him  (Henry  II.),  being  desired  to  give  his 
opinion  about  the  royal  army,  and  whether  he  thought  that  of 
the  rebels  would  make  resistance,  and  what  he  thought  would 
'  be  the  final  event  of  this  war,  replied :  '  This  nation,  O  King, 
may  now,  as  in  former  times,  be  harassed,  and.  in  a  great 
measure,  be  weakened  and  destroyed  by  you  and  other  powers : 
and  it  will  often  prevail  by  its  laudable  exertions,  but  it  can 
never  be  totally  subdued  by  the  wrath  of  man,  unless  the  wrath 
of  God  shall  concur.  Nor  do  I  think  that  any  other  nation 
than  this  of  Wales,  or  any  other  language  (whatever  may  here- 
after come  to  pass),  shall  in  the  day  of  severe  examination 
before  the  Supreme  Judge  atlswer  for  this  corner  of  tht 
earth!'" — HOARE'S  Giraldus  Cambrensis,  vol.  i.  p.  361. 


324  HAROLD 

among  most  of  the  chiefs  was  arrested  for  a  moment. 
But  the  spearmen  and  multitude  above,  excited  by  the 
tidings  of  safety  to  life,  and  worn  out  by  repeated  de- 
feat, and  the  dread  fear  of  famine,  too  remote  to  hear 
the  King,  were  listening  eagerly  to  the  insidious  ad- 
dresses of  the  two  stealthy  conspirators,  creeping  from 
rank  to  rank;  and  already  they  began  to  sway  and 
move,  and  sweep  slowly  down  towards  the  King. 

Recovering  his  surprise,  the  Norman  again  neared 
Gryffyth,  and  began  to  re-urge  his  mission  of  peace. 
But  the  chief  waved  him  back  sternly,  and  said  aloud, 
though  in  Saxon: 

"  No  secrets  can  pass  between  Harold  and  me. 
This  much  alone,  take  thou  back  as  answer:  I  thank  the 
Earl,  for  myself,  my  Queen,  and  my  people.  Noble 
have  been  his  courtesies,  as  foe;  as  foe  I  thank  him — as 
king,  defy.  The  torque  he  hath  returned  to  my  hand, 
he  shall  see  again  ere  the  sun  set.  Messengers,  ye  are 
answered.  Withdraw,  and  speed  fast,  that  we  may  pass 
not  your  steps  on  the  road." 

The  monk  sighed,  and  cast  a  look  of  holy  compassion 
over  the  circle;  and  a  pleased  man  was  he  to  see  in  the 
faces  of  most  there,  that  the  King  was  alone  in  his 
fierce  defiance.  Then  lifting  again  the  rood,  he  turned 
away,  and  with  him  went  the  Norman. 

The  retirement  of  the  messengers  was  the  signal  for 
one  burst  of  remonstrance  from  the  chiefs — the  signal 
for  the  voice  and  the  deeds  of  the  Fatal  Three.  Down 
from  the  heights  sprang  and  rushed  the  angry  and  tur- 
bulent multitudes;  round  the  King  came  the  bard  and 
the  falconer,  and  some  faithful  few. 

The  great  uproar  of  many  voices  caused  the  monk 
and  the  knight  to  pause  abruptly  in  their  descent,  and 


HAROLD  325 

turn  to  look  behind.  They  could  see  the  crowd  rush- 
ing down  from  the  higher  steeps;  but  on  the  spot  it- 
self which  they  had  so  lately  left,  the  nature  of  the 
ground  only  permitted  a  confused  view  of  spear  points, 
lifted  swords,  and  heads  crowned  with  shaggy  locks, 
swaying  to  and  fro. 

"  What  means  all  this  commotion? "  asked  the 
knight,  with  his  hand  on  his  sword. 

"Hist!"  said  the  monk,  pale  as  ashes,  and  leaning 
for  support  upon  the  cross. 

Suddenly,  above  the  hubbub,  was  heard  the  voice  of 
the  King,  in  accents  of  menace  and  wrath,  singularly 
distinct  and  clear;  it  was  followed  by  a  moment's  si- 
lence— a  moment's  silence  followed  by  the  clatter  of 
arms,  a  yell,  and  a  howl,  and  the  indescribable  shock 
of  men. 

And  suddenly  again  was  heard  a  voice  that  seemed 
that  of  the  King,  but  no  longer  distinct  and  clear! — 
was  it  laugh? — was  it  groan? 

All  was  hushed;  the  monk  was  on  his  knees  in 
prayer;  the  knight's  sword  was  bare  in  his  hand.  All 
was  hushed — and  the  spears  stood  still  in  the  air;  when 
there  was  again  a  cry,  as  multitudinous,  but  less  sav- 
age than  before.  And  the  Welch  came  down  the  pass, 
and  down  the  crags. 

The  knight  placed  his  back  to  a  rock.  "  They  have 
orders  to  murther  us,"  he  murmured;  "  but  woe  to  the 
first  who  come  within  reach  of  my  sword!  " 

Down  swarmed  the  Welchmen,  nearer  and  nearer; 
and  in  the  midst  of  them  three  chiefs — the  Fatal  Three. 
And  the  old  chief  bore  in  his  hand  a  pole  or  spear,  and 
on  the  top  of  that  spear,  trickling  gore  step  by  step, 
was  the  trunkless  head  of  Gryffyth  the  King. 


326  HAROLD 

"  This,"  said  the  old  chief,  as  he  drew  near,  "  this  is 
our  answer  to  Harold  the  Earl.  We  will  go  with  ye." 

"  Food!  food!  "  cried  the  multitude. 

And  the  three  chiefs  (one  on  either  side  the  trunkless 
head  that  the  third  bore  aloft)  whispered,  "  We  are 
avenged ! " 


NOTES 


NOTE  (A),  PAGE  15. 

There  are  various  accounts  in  the  Chroniclers  as  to  the 
stature  of  William  the  First;  some  represent  him  as  a  giant, 
others  as  of  just  or  middle  height.  Considering  the  vulgar 
inclination  to  attribute  to  a  hero's  stature  the  qualities  of  the 
mind  (and  putting  out  of  all  question  the  arguments  that  rest 
on  the  pretended  size  of  the  disburied  bones — for  which  the 
authorities  are  really  less  respectable  than  those  on  which  we 
are  called  upon  to  believe  that  the  skeleton  of  the  mythical 
Gawaine  measured  eight  feet),  we  prefer  that  supposition,  as 
to  the  physical  proportions,  which  is  most  in  harmony  with  the 
usual  laws  of  Nature.  It  is  rare,  indeed,  that  a  great  intellect 
is  found  in  the  form  of  a  giant. 

NOTE  (B),  PAGE  30. 
Game  Laws  before  the  Conquest. 

Under  the  Saxon  kings  a  man  might,  it  is  true,  hunt  in  his 
own  grounds,  but  that  was  a  privilege  that  could  benefit  few 
but  thegns ;  and  over  cultivated  ground  or  shire-land  there 
was  not  the  same  sport  to  be  found  as  in  the  vast  wastes  called 
forest-land,  and  which  mainly  belonged  to  the  kings. 

Edward  declares,  in  a  law  recorded  in  a  volume  of  the  Ex- 
chequer, "  I  will  that  all  men  do  abstain  from  hunting  in  my 
woods,  and  that  my  will  shall  be  obeyed  under  penalty  of 
life."  i 

Edgar,  the  darling  monarch  of  the  monks,  and,  indeed,  one 
of  the  most  popular  of  the  Anglo-Saxon  kings,  was  so  rigor- 
ous in  his  forest-laws  that  the  thegns  murmured  as  well  as 

1  Thomson's  Essay  on  Magna  Charta. 
327 


328  HAROLD 

the  lower  husbandmen,  who  had  been  accustomed  to  use  the 
woods  for  pasturage  and  boscage.  Canute's  forest-laws  were 
meant  as  a  liberal  concession  to  public  feeling  on  the  subject; 
they  are  more  definite  than  Edgar's,  but  terribly  stringent;  if 
a  freeman  killed  one  of  the  king's  deer,  or  struck  his  forester, 
he  lost  his  freedom  and  became  a  penal  serf  (white  theowe) 
— that  is,  he  ranked  with  felons.  Nevertheless,  Canute  allowed 
bishops,  abbots,  and  thegns  to  hunt  in  his  woods — a  privilege 
restored  by  Henry  III.  The  nobility,  after  the  Conquest,  being 
excluded  from  the  royal  chases,  petitioned  to  enclose  parks, 
as  early  even  as  the  reign  of  William  I. ;  and  by  the  time  of 
his  son,  Henry  I.,  parks  became  so  common  as  to  be  at  once 
a  ridicule  and  a  grievance. 

NOTE  (C),  PAGE  37. 
Belin's  Gate. 

Verstegan  combats  the  Welsh  antiquaries  who  would  ap- 
propriate this  gate  to  the  British  deity  Bal  or  Beli ;  and  says, 
if  so,  it  would  not  have  been  called  by  a  name  half  Saxon,  half 
British,  gate  (geat)  being  Saxon;  but  rather  Belinsport  than 
Belinsgate.  This  is  no  very  strong  argument;  for,  in  the 
Norman  time,  many  compound  words  were  half  Norman,  half 
Saxon.  But,  in  truth,  Belin  was  a  Teuton  deity,  whose  wor- 
ship pervaded  all  Gaul ;  and  the  Saxons  might  either  have 
continued,  therefore,  the  name  they  found,  or  given  it  them- 
selves from  their  own  god.  I  am  not  inclined,  however,  to 
contend  that  any  deity,  Saxon  or  British,  gave  the  name,  or 
that  Billing  is  not,  after  all,  the  right  orthography.  Billing, 
like  all  words  ending  in  ing,  has  something  very  Danish  in  its 
sound ;  and  the  name  is  quite  as  likely  to  have  been  given  by 
the  Danes  as  by  the  Saxons. 

NOTE  (D),  PAGE  41. 

Vineyards  in  England. 

The  question  whether  or  not  real  vineyards  were  grown,  or 
real  wine  made  from  them,  in  England  has  been  a  very  vexed 
question  among  the  antiquaries.  But  it  is  scarcely  possible  to 
read  Pegge's  dispute  with  Daines  Barrington  in  the  Arenas- 


HAROLD  329 

ologra  without  deciding  both  questions  in  the  affirmative. — See 
Archceol.  vol.  iii.  p.  53.  An  engraving  of  the  Saxon  wine-press 
is  given  in  STRUTT'S  Horda.  Vineyards  fell  into  disuse,  either 
by  treaty  with  France,  or  Gascony  falling  into  the  hands  of  the 
English.  But  vineyards  were  cultivated  by  private  gentlemen 
as  late  as  1621.  Our  first  wines  from  Bordeaux — the  true 
country  of  Bacchus — appear  to  have  been  imported  about  1154, 
by  the  marriage  of  Henry  II.  with  Eleanor  of  Aquitaine. 

NOTE  (E),  PAGES  75,  84. 
Lanfranc,  the  first  Anglo-Norman  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

Lanfranc  was,  in  all  respects,  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
men  of  the  eleventh  century.  He  was  born  in  Pavia,  about 
1105.  His  family  was  noble — his  father  ranked  amongst  the 
magistrature  of  Pavia,  the  Lombard  capital.  From  his  earliest 
youth  he  gave  himself  up,  with  all  a  scholar's  zeal,  to  the 
liberal  arts,  and  the  special  knowledge  of  law,  civil  and  ec- 
clesiastical. He  studied  at  Cologne,  and  afterwards  taught  and 
practised  law  in  his  own  country.  "  While  yet  extremely 
young,"  says  one  of  the  lively  chroniclers,  "  he  triumphed  over 
the  ablest  advocates,  and  the  torrents  of  his  eloquence  con- 
founded the  subtlest  rhetorician."  His  decisions  were  received 
as  authorities  by  the  Italian  jurisconsults  and  tribunals.  His 
mind,  to  judge  both  by  his  history  and  his  peculiar  reputation 
(for  probably  few,  if  any,  students  of  our  day  can  pretend  to 
more  than  a  partial  or  superficial  acquaintance  with  his  writ- 
ings), was  one  that  delighted  in  subtleties  and  casuistical 
refinements ;  but  a  sense  too  large  and  commanding  for  those 
studies  which  amuse  but  never  satisfy  the  higher  intellect, 
became  disgusted  betimes  with  mere  legal  dialectics.  Those 
grand  and  absorbing  mysteries  connected  with  the  Christian 
faith  and  the  Roman  Church  (grand  and  absorbing  in  propor- 
tion as  their  premises  are  taken  by  religious  belief  as  mathe- 
matical axioms  already  proven)  seized  hold  of  his  imagination, 
and  tasked  to  the  depth  his  inquisitive  reason.  The  Chronicle 
of  Knyghton  cites  an  interesting  anecdote  of  his  life  at  this, 
its  important,  crisis.  He  had  retired  to  a  solitary  spot,  beside 
the  Seine,  to  meditate  on  the  mysterious  essence  of  the  Trinity, 
when  he  saw  a  boy  ladling  out  the  waters  of  the  river  that 


330  HAROLD 

ran  before  him  into  a  little  well.  His  curiosity  arrested,  he 
asked  "what  the  boy  proposed  to  do?"  The  boy  replied, 
"  To  empty  yon  deep  into  this  well."  "  That  canst  thou  never 
do,"  said  the  scholar.  "  Nor  canst  thou,"  answered  the  boy, 
"  exhaust  the  deep  on  which  thou  dost  meditate  into  the  well 
of  thy  reason."  Therewith  the  speaker  vanished,  and  Lan- 
franc,  resigning  the  hope  to  achieve  the  mighty  mystery,  threw 
himself  at  once  into  the  arms  of  faith,  and  took  his  refuge  in 
the  monastery  of  Bee. 

The  tale  may  be  a  legend,  but  not  an  idle  one.  Perhaps  he 
related  it  himself  as  a  parable,  and  by  the  fiction  explained  the 
process  of  thought  that  decided  his  career.  In  the  prime  of 
his  manhood,  about  1042,  when  he  was  thirty-seven  years  old, 
and  in  the  zenith  of  his  scholarly  fame,  he  professed.  The 
Convent  of  Bee  had  been  lately  founded,  under  Herluin,  the 
first  abbot;  there  Lanfranc  opened  a  school,  which  became 
one  of  the  most  famous  throughout  the  west  of  Europe.  In- 
deed, under  the  Lombard's  influence,  the  then  obscure  Convent 
of  Bee,  to  which  the  solitude  of  the  site  and  the  poverty  of 
the  endowment  allured  his  choice,  grew  the  Academe  of  the 
age.  "  It  was,"  says  Oderic,  in  his  charming  chronicle,  "  it 
was  under  such  a  master  that  the  Normans  received  their  first 
notions  of  literature;  from  that  school  emerged  the  multitude 
of  eloquent  philosophers  who  adorned  alike  divinity  and  sci- 
ence. From  France,  Gascony,  Bretagne,  Flanders,  scholars 
thronged  to  receive  his  lessons."  * 

At  first,  as  superficially  stated  in  the  tale,  Lanfranc  had 
taken  part  against  the  marriage  of  William  with  Matilda  of 
Flanders — a  marriage  clearly  contrary  to  the  formal  canons  of 
the  Roman  Church,  and  was  banished  by  the  fiery  Duke ; 
though  William's  displeasure  gave  way  at  "  the  decent  joke  " 
(jocus  decens),  recorded  in  the  text.  At  Rome,  however,  his 
influence,  arguments,  and  eloquence  were  all  enlisted  on  the 
side  of  William :  and  it  was  to  the  scholar  of  Pavia  that  the 
great  Norman  owed  the  ultimate  sanction  of  his  marriage,  and 
the  repeal  of  the  interdict  that  excommunicated  his  realm.2 

1  Orderic.  Vital,  lib.  4. 

2  The  date  of  William's  marriage  has  been  variously  stated 
in  English  and  Norman  history,  but  is  usually  fixed  in  1051-2. 
M.  Pluquet,  however,  in  a  note  to  his  edition  of  the  "  Roman 
de  Rou,"  says  that  the  only  authority  for  the  date   of  (hat 


HAROLD  331 

At  Rome  he  assisted  in  the  council  held  1059  (the  year 
wherein  the  ban  of  the  Church  was  finally  and  formally  taken 
from  Normandy),  at  which  the  famous  Berenger,  Archdeacon 
of  Angers  (against  whom  he  had  waged  a  polemical  contro- 
versy that  did  more  than  all  else  to  secure  his  repute  at  the 
Pontifical  Court),  abjured  "his  heresies"  as  to  the  Real 
Presence  in  the  sacrament  of  the  Eucharist. 

In  1062,  or  1063,  Duke  William,  against  the  Lombard's  own 
will  (for  Lanfranc  genuinely  loved  the  liberty  of  letters  more 
than  vulgar  power),  raised  him  to  the  abbacy  of  St.  Stephen 
of  Caen.  From  that  time,  his  ascendancy  over  his  haughty 
lord  was  absolute.  The  contemporary  historian  (William  of 
Poitiers),  says  that  "  William  respected  him  as  a  father,  ven- 
erated him  as  a  preceptor,  and  cherished  him  as  a  brother  or 
son."  He  confided  to  him  his  own  designs;  and  committed 
to  him  the  entire  superintendence  of  the  ecclesiastical  orders 
throughout  Normandy.  Eminent  no  less  for  his  practical 
genius  in  affairs,  than  for  his  rare  piety  and  theological  learn- 
ing, Lanfranc  attained  indeed  to  the  true  ideal  of  the  Scholar; 
to  whom,  of  all  men,  nothing  that  is  human  should  be  for- 
eign ;  whose  closet  is  but  a  hermit's  cell,  unless  it  is  the 
microcosm  that  embraces  the  mart  and  the  forum ;  who  by 
the  reflective  part  of  his  nature  seizes  the  higher  region  of 
philosophy — by  the  energetic,  is  attracted  to  the  central  focus 
of  action.  For  scholarship  is  but  the  parent  of  ideas ;  and 
ideas  are  the  parents  of  action. 

After  the  conquest,  as  prelate  of  Canterbury,  Lanfranc  be- 
came the  second  man  in  the  kingdom — happy,  perhaps,  for 
England  had  he  been  the  first ;  for  all  the  anecdotes  recorded 
of  him  show  a  deep  and  genuine  sympathy  with  the  oppressed 
population.  But  William  the  King  of  the  English  escaped 
from  the  control  which  Lanfranc  had  imposed  on  the  Duke 
of  the  Normans.  The  scholar  had  strengthened  the  aspirer; 
he  could  only  imperfectly  influence  the  conqueror. 

Lanfranc  was  not,  it  is  true,  a  faultless  character.  He  was 
a  priest,  a  lawyer,  and  a  man  of  the  world — three  characters 

marriage  is  in  the  Chronicle  of  Tours,  and  it  is  there  referred 
to  1053.  It  would  seem  that  the  Papal  excommunication  was 
not  actually  taken  off  till  1059:  nor  the  formal  dispensation 
for  the  marriage  granted  till  1063. 


332  HAROLD 

hard  to  amalgamate  into  perfection,  especially  in  the  eleventh 
century.  But  he  stands  in  gigantic  and  brilliant  contrast  to 
the  rest  of  our  priesthood  in  his  own  day,  both  in  the  supe- 
riority of  his  virtues,  and  in  his  exemption  from  the  ordinary 
vices.  He  regarded  the  cruelties  of  Odo  of  Bayeux  with  de- 
testation, opposed  him  with  firmness,  and  ultimately,  to  the 
joy  of  all  England,  ruined  his  power.  He  gave  a  great  impetus 
to  learning ;  he  set  a  high  example  to  his  monks,  in  his  free- 
dom from  the  mercenary  sins  of  their  order;  he  laid  the 
foundations  of  a  powerful  and  splendid  church,  which,  only 
because  it  failed  in  future  Lanfrancs,  failed  in  effecting  the 
civilisation  of  which  he  designed  it  to  be  the  instrument.  He 
refused  to  crown  William  Rufus,  until  that  king  had  sworn 
to  govern  according  to  law  and  to  right ;  and  died,  though  a 
Norman  usurper,  honoured  and  beloved  by  the  Saxon  people. 
Scholar,  and  morning  star  of  light  in  the  dark  age  of  force 
and  fraud,  it  is  easier  to  praise  thy  life,  than  to  track  through 
the  length  of  centuries  all  the  measureless  and  invisible  benefits 
which  the  life  of  one  scholar  bequeaths  to  the  world — in  the 
souls  it  awakens — in  the  thoughts  it  suggests ! 1 

NOTE  (F),  PAGE  87. 

Edward  the  Confessor's  reply  to  Magnus  of  Denmark  who 
claimed  his  Crown. 

On  rare  occasions  Edward  was  not  without  touches  of  a 
brave  kingly  nature. 

Snorro  Sturleson  gives  us  a  noble  and  spirited  reply  of  the 
Confessor  to  Magnus,  who,  as  heir  of  Canute,  claimed  the 
English  crown;  it  concludes  thus: — "  Now,  he  (Hardicanute) 
died,  and  then  it  was  the  resolution  of  all  the  people  of  the 
country  to  take  me,  for  the  king  here  in  England.  So  long  as 
I  had  no  kingly  title  I  served  my  superiors  in  all  respects,  like 
those  who  had  no  claims  by  birth  to  land  or  kingdom.  Now, 
however,  I  have  received  the  kingly  title,  and  am  consecrated 
king;  I  have  established  my  royal  dignity  and  authority,  as 

1  For  authorities  for  the  above  sketch,  and  for  many  inter- 
esting details  of  Lanfranc's  character,  see  Orderic.  Vital.  Hen. 
de  Knyghton,  lib.  ii.  Gervasius;  and  the  life  of  Lanfranc,  to 
be  found  in  the  collection  of  bis  Works,  &c. 


HAROLD  333 

my  father  before  me ;  and  while  I  live  I  will  not  renounce  my 
title.  If  King  Magnus  comes  here  with  an  army,  I  will  gather 
no  army  against  him ;  but  he  shall  only  get  the  opportunity 
of  taking  England  when  he  has  taken  my  life.  Tell  him  these 
words  of  mine."  If  we  may  consider  this  reply  to  be  authentic, 
it  is  significant,  as  proof  that  Edward  rests  his  title  on  the 
resolution  of  the  people  to  take  him  for  king;  and  counts  as 
nothing,  in  comparison,  his  hereditary  claims.  This,  together 
with  the  general  tone  of  the  reply,  particularly  the  passage  in 
which  he  implies  that  he  trusts  his  defence  not  to  his  army 
but  his  people — makes  it  probable  that  Godwin  dictated  the 
answer;  and,  indeed,  Edward  himself  could  not  have  couched 
it,  either  in  Saxon  or  Danish.  But  the  King  is  equally  en- 
titled to  the  credit  of  it,  whether  he  composed  it,  or  whether 
he  merely  approved  and  sanctioned  its  gallant  tone  and  its 
princely  sentiment. 

NOTE  (G),  PAGE  90. 
Heralds. 

So  much  of  the  "  pride,  pomp,  and  circumstance "  which 
invest  the  Age  of  Chivalry  is  borrowed  from  these  companions 
of  princes,  and  blazoners  of  noble  deeds,  that  it  may  interest 
the  reader,  if  I  set  briefly  before  him  what  our  best  antiquaries 
have  said  as  to  their  first  appearance  in  our  own  history. 

Camden  (somewhat,  I  fear,  too  rashly)  says,  that  "their 
reputation,  honour,  and  name  began  in  the  time  of  Charle- 
magne." The  first  mention  of  heralds  in  England  occurs  in 
the  reign  of  Edward  III.,  a  reign  in  which  Chivalry  was  at 
its  dazzling  zenith.  Whitlock  says,  "  that  some  derive  the 
name  of  Herald  from  Hereauld,"  a  Saxon  word  (old  soldier, 
or  old  master),  "because  anciently  they  were  chosen  from 
veteran  soldiers."  Joseph  Holland  says,  "  I  find  that  Malcolm, 
King  of  Scots,  sent  a  herald  unto  William  the  Conqueror,  to 
treat  of  a  peace,  when  both  armies  were  in  order  of  battle." 
Agard  affirms,  that  "  at  the  conquest  there  was  no  practice  of 
heraldry ;  "  and  observes  truly,  "  that  the  Conqueror  used  a 
monk  for  his  messenger  to  King  Harold." 

To  this  I  may  add.  that  monks  or  priests  also  fulfil  the 
office  of  heralds  in  the  old  French  and  Norman  Chronicles. 
Thus  Charles  the  Simple  s«*ids  an  archbishop  to  treat  with 


334  HAROLD 

Rolfganger;  Louis  the  Debonnair  sends  to  Mormon,  chief  of 
the  Bretons,  "  a  sage  and  prudent  abbot."  But  in  the  Saxon 
times,  the  nuncius  (a  word  still  used  in  heraldic  Latin)  was 
in  the  regular  service  both  of  the  King  and  the  great  Earls. 
The  Saxon  name  for  such  a  messenger  was  bode,  and  when 
employed  in  hostile  negotiations,  he  was  styled  warbode.  The 
messengers  between  Godwin  and  the  King  would  seem,  by 
the  general  sense  of  the  chronicles,  to  have  been  certain  thegns 
acting  as  mediators. 

NOTE  (H),  PAGE  126. 
The  Fylgia,  or  Tutelary  Spirit. 

This  lovely  superstition  in  the  Scandinavian  belief  is  the 
more  remarkable  because  it  does  not  appear  in  the  creed  of  the 
Germanic  Teutons,  and  is  closely  allied  with  the  good  angel, 
or  guardian  genius,  of  the  Persians.  It  forms,  therefore,  one 
of  the  arguments  that  favour  the  Asiatic  origin  of  the  Norse- 
men. 

The  Fylgia  (following,  or  attendant,  spirit)  was  always  rep- 
resented as  a  female.  Her  influence  was  not  uniformly 
favourable,  though  such  was  its  general  characteristic.  She 
was  capable  of  revenge  if  neglected,  but  had  the  devotion  of 
her  sex  when  properly  treated.  Mr.  Grenville  Pigott,  in  his 
popular  work,  entitled  "  A  Manual  of  Scandinavian  Mythol- 
ogy," relates  an  interesting  legend  with  respect  to  one  of  these 
supernatural  ladies : — 

A  Scandinavian  warrior,  Halfred  Vandraedakald,  having  em- 
braced Christianity,  and  being  attacked  by  a  disease  which  he 
thought  mortal,  was  naturally  anxious  that  a  spirit  who  had 
accompanied  him  through  his  pagan  career  should  not  attend 
him  into  that  other  world,  where  her  society  might  involve 
him  in  disagreeable  consequences.  The  persevering  Fylgia, 
however,  in  the  shape  of  a  fair  maiden,  walked  on  the  waves 
of  the  sea  after  her  viking's  ship.  She  came  thus  in  sight  of 
all  the  crew ;  and  Halfred,  recognising  his  Fylgia,  told  her 
point  blank  that  their  connection  was  at  an  end  for  ever.  The 
forsaken  Fylgia  had  a  high  spirit  of  her  own,  and  she  then 
asked  Thorold  "  if  he  would  take  her."  Thorold  ungallantly 
refused ;  but  Halfred  the  younger  .said,  "  Maiden,  I  will  take 
thee."  V 

1  Pigott's  Scand.  Mythol.  p.  360.    Half.  Vand.  Saga. 


HAROLD  335 

In  the  various  Norse  Saga  there  are  many  anecdotes  of 
these  spirits,  who  are  always  charming,  because,  with  their 
less  earthly  attributes,  they  always  blend  something  of  the 
woman.  The  poetry  embodied  in  their  existence  is  of  a  softer 
and  more  humane  character  than  that  common  with  the  stern 
and  vast  demons  of  the  Scandinavian  mythology. 

NOTE  (I),  PAGE  135. 
The  Origin  of  Earl  Godwin. 

Sharon  Turner  quotes  from  the  Knytlinga  Saga  what  he 
calls  "  an  explanation  of  Godwin's  career  or  parentage,  which 
no  other  document  affords ;  "  viz. — "  that  Ulf,  a  Danish  chief, 
after  the  battle  of  Skorstein,  between  Canute  and  Edmund 
Ironsides,  pursued  the  English  fugitives  into  a  wood,  lost  his 
way,  met,  on  the  morning,  a  Saxon  youth  driving  cattle  to 
their  pasture,  asked  him  to  direct  him  in  safety  to  Canute's 
ships,  and  offered  him  the  bribe  of  a  gold  ring  for  his  guidance ; 
the  young  herdsman  refused  the  bribe,  but  sheltered  the  Dane 
in  the  cottage  of  his  father  (who  is  represented  as  a  mere 
peasant),  and  conducted  him  the  next  morning  to  the  Danish 
camp ;  previously  to  which,  the  youth's  father  represented  to 
Ulf,  that  his  son,  Godwin,  could  never,  after  aiding  a  Dane 
to  escape,  rest  in  safety  with  his  countrymen,  and  besought 
him  to  befriend  his  son's  fortunes  with  Canute."  The  Dane 
promised,  and  kept  his  word ;  hence  Godwin's  rise.  Thierry, 
in  his  "  History  of  the  Norman  Conquest,"  tells  the  same  story, 
on  the  authority  of  Torfaeus,  Hist.  Rer.  Norweg.  Now  I  need 
not  say  to  any  scholar  in  our  early  history,  that  the  Norse 
Chronicles,  abounding  with  romance  and  legend,  are  never  to 
be  received  as  authorities  counter  to  our  own  records,  though 
occasionally  valuable  to  supply  omissions  in  the  latter;  and, 
unfortunately  for  this  pretty  story,  we  have  against  it  the 
direct  statements  of  the  very  best  authorities  we  possess,  viz. 
The  Saxon  Chronicle  and  Florence  of  Worcester.  The  Saxon 
Chronicle  expressly  tells  us  that  Godwin's  father  was  Childe 
of  Sussex  (Florence  calls  him  minister  or  thegn  of  Sussex  *), 
and  that  Wolnoth  was  nephew  to  Edric,  the  all-powerful  Earl 

1 "  Suthsaxonum  Ministrum  Wolfnothem."    Flor.  Wig. 


336  HAROLD 

or  Duke  of  Mercia.     Florence  confirms  this  statement,  and 
gives  the  pedigree,  which  may  be  deduced  as  follows : 


I  I 

Edric  married  Egelric, 

Edgith,  daughter  of  surnamed  Leofwine 

King  Ethelred  II.  | 

Egelmar, 

Wolnoth. 
Godwin. 

Thus  this  "  old  peasant,"  as  the  North  Chronicles  call  Wol- 
noth, was,  according  to  our  most  unquestionable  authorities, 
a  thegn  of  one  of  the  most  important  divisions  in  England, 
and  a  member  of  the  most  powerful  family  in  the  kingdom! 
Now,  if  our  Saxon  authorities  needed  any  aid  from  probabili- 
ties, it  is  scarcely  worth  asking,  which  is  the  more  probable, 
that  the  son  of  a  Saxon  herdsman  should  in  a  few  years  rise 
to  such  power  as  to  marry  the  sister  of  the  royal  Danish  Con- 
queror— or  that  that  honour  should  be  conferred  on  the  most 
able  member  of  a  house  already  allied  to  Saxon  royalty,  and 
which  evidently  retained  its  power  after  the  fall  of  its  head, 
the  treacherous  Edric  Streone !  Even  after  the  Conquest, 
one  of  Streone's  nephews,  Edricus  Sylvaticus,  is  mentioned 
(Simon.  Dunelm.)  as  "a  very  powerful  thegn."  Upon  the 
whole,  the  account  given  of  Godwin's  rise  in  the  text  of  the 
work  appears  the  most  correct  that  conjectures,  based  on  our 
scanty  historical  information,  will  allow. 

In  1009  A.D.,  Wolnoth,  the  Childe  or  Thegn  of  Sussex,  de- 
feats the  fleets  of  Ethelred,  under  his  uncle  Brightric,  and 
goes  therefore  into  rebellion.  Thus  when,  in  1014  (five  years 
afterwards),  Canute  is  chosen  king  by  all  the  fleet,  it  is  prob- 
able that  Wolnoth  and  Godwin,  his  son,  espoused  his  cause ; 
and  that  Godwin,  subsequently  presented  to  Canute  as  a  young 
noble  of  great  promise,  was  favoured  by  that  sagacious  king, 
and  ultimately  honoured  with  the  hand,  first  of  his  sister, 
secondly  of  his  niece,  as  a  mode  of  conciliating  the  Saxon 
thegns. 


HAROLD  337 

NOTE  (K),  PAGE  276. 
The  want  of  Fortresses  in  England. 

The  Saxons  were  sad  destroyers.  They  destroyed  the 
strongholds  which  the  Briton  had  received  from  the  Roman, 
and  built  very  few  others.  Thus  the  land  was  left  open  to  the 
Danes.  Alfred,  sensible  of  this  defect,  repaired  the  walls  of 
London  and  other  cities,  and  urgently  recommended  his  nobles 
and  prelates  to  build  fortresses,  but  could  not  persuade  them. 
His  great-souled  daughter,  Elfleda,  was  the  only  imitator  of 
his  example.  She  built  eight  castles  in  three  years.1 

It  was  thus  that  in  a  country,  in  which  the  general  features 
do  not  allow  of  protracted  warfare,  the  inhabitants  were  always 
at  the  hazard  of  a  single  pitched  battle.  Subsequent  to  the 
Conquest,  in  the  reign  of  John,  it  was,  in  truth,  the  strong 
castle  of  Dover,  on  the  siege  of  which  Prince  Louis  lost  so 
much  time,  that  saved  the  realm  of  England  from  passing  to 
a  French  dynasty :  and  as,  in  later  periods,  strongholds  fell 
again  into  decay,  so  it  is  remarkable  to  observe  how  easily  the 
country  was  overrun  after  any  signal  victory  of  one  of  the 
contending  parties.  In  this  truth,  the  Wars  of  the  Roses 
abound  with  much  instruction.  The  handful  of  foreign  mer- 
cenaries with  which  Henry  VII.  won  his  crown, — though  the 
real  heir,  the  Earl  of  Warwick  (granting  Edward  IV.'s  chil- 
dren to  be  illegitimate,  which  they  clearly  were  according  to 
the  rites  of  the  Church),  had  never  lost  his  claim,  by  the 
defeat  of  Richard  at  Bosworth ; — the  march  of  the  Pretender 
to  Derby, — the  dismay  it  spread  throughout  England, — and  the 
certainty  of  his  conquest  had  he  proceeded ; — the  easy  victory 
of  William  III.  at  a  time  when  certainly  the  bulk  of  the  nation 
was  opposed  to  his  cause; — are  all  facts  pregnant  with  warn- 
ings, to  which  we  are  as  blind  as  we  were  in  the  days  of 
Alfred. 

NOTE  (L),  PAGE  305. 

The  Ruins  of  Penmaen-mawr. 

In  Camden's  Britannia  there  is  an  account  of  the  remark- 
able relics  assigned,  in  the  text,  to  the  last  refuge  of  Gryffyth 

1  Asser.  de  Reb.  G«st.  Alf.  pp.  17,  18. 
VOL.  I.— 22 


338  HAROLD 

ap  Llewellyn,  taken  from  a  manuscript  by  Sir  John  Wynne 
in  the  time  of  Charles  I.  In  this  account  are  minutely  de- 
scribed, "  ruinous  walls  of  an  exceeding  strong  fortification, 
compassed  with  a  treble  wall,  and,  within  each  wall,  the  foun- 
dations of  at  least  one  hundred  towers,  about  six  yards  in 
diameter  within  the  walls.  This  castle  seems  (while  it  stood) 
impregnable ;  there  being  no  way  to  offer  any  assault  on  it, 
the  hill  being  so  very  high,  steep,  and  rocky,  and  the  walls 
of  such  strength, — the  way  or  entrance  into  it  ascending  with 
many  turnings,  so  that  one  hundred  men  might  defend  them- 
selves against  a  whole  legion ;  and  yet  it  should  seem  that 
there  were  lodgings  within  those  walls  for  twenty  thousand 
men. 

"  By  the  tradition  we  receive  from  our  ancestors,  this  was 
the  strongest  refuge,  or  place  of  defence,  that  the  ancient 
Britons  had  in  all  Snowdon ;  moreover,  the  greatness  of  the 
work  shows  that  it  was  a  princely  fortification,  strengthened 
by  nature  and  workmanship."  l 

But  in  the  year  1771,  Governor  Pownall  ascended  Penmaen- 
mawr,  inspected  these  remains,  and  published  his  account  in 
the  Archaeologia,  vol.  iii.  p.  303,  with  a  sketch  both  of  the 
mount  and  the  walls  at  the  summit.  The  Governor  is  of 
opinion  that  it  never  was  a  fortification.  He  thinks  that  the 
inward  inclosure  contained  a  earn  (or  arch-Druid's  sepulchre), 
that  there  is  not  room  for  any  lodgment,  that  the  walls  are 
not  of  a  kind  which  can  form  a  cover,  and  give  at  the  same 
time  the  advantage  of  fighting  from  them.  In  short,  that  the 
place  was  one  of  the  Druids'  consecrated  high  places  of  wor- 
ship. He  adds,  however,  that  "  Mr.  Pennant  has  gone  twice 
over  it,  intends  to  make  an  actual  survey,  and  anticipates  much 
from  that  great  antiquary's  knowledge  and  accuracy." 

We  turn  next  to  Mr.  Pennant,  and  we  find  him  giving  a  flat 
contradiction  to  the  Governor.  "  I  have  more  than  once,"  2 
says  he,  "  visited  this  noted  rock,  to  view  the  fortifications 
described  by  the  editor  of  Camden,  from  some  notes  of  that 
sensible  old  baronet,  Sir  John  Wynne,  of  Gwidir,  and  have 
found  his  account  very  just. 

"  The  fronts  of  three,  if  not  four  walls,  presented  themselves 

.     1  Camden,  Caernarvonshire. 
2  Pennant's  Wales,  vol.  ii.  p.  146. 


HAROLD  339 

very  distinctly  one  above  the  other.  I  measured  the  height 
of  one  wall,  which  was  at  the  time  nine  feet,  the  thickness 
seven  feet  and  a  half."  (Now,  Governor  Pownall  also  meas- 
ured the  walls,  agrees  pretty  well  with  Pennant  as  to  their 
width,  but  makes  them  only  five  feet  high.)  "  Between  these 
walls,  in  all  parts,  were  innumerable  small  buildings,  mostly 
circular.  These  had  been  much  higher,  as  is  evident  from  the 
fall  of  stones  which  lie  scattered  at  their  bottoms,  and  probably 
had  once  the  form  of  towers,  as  Sir  John  asserts.  Their 
diameter  is,  in  general,  from  twelve  to  eighteen  feet  (ample 
room  here  for  lodgment)  ;  the  walls  were  in  certain  places 
intersected  with  others  equally  strong.  This  stronghold  of  the 
Britons  is  exactly  of  the  same  kind  with  those  on  Cam  Madryn, 
Carn  Boduan,  and  Tre'r  Caer. 

"  This  was  most  judiciously  chosen  to  cover  the  passage  into 
Anglesea,  and  the  remoter  part  of  their  country ;  and  must, 
from  its  vast  strength,  have  been  invulnerable,  except  by  fam- 
ine ;  being  inaccessible  by  its  natural  steepness  towards  the 
sea,  and  on  the  parts  fortified  in  the  manner  described."  So 
far,  Pennant  versus  Pownall !  "  Who  shall  decide  when  doc- 
tors disagree  ?  "  The  opinion  of  both  these  antiquarians  is 
liable  to  demur.  Governor  Pownall  might  probably  be  a  better 
judge  of  military  defences  than  Pennant;  but  he  evidently 
forms  his  notions  of  defence  with  imperfect  knowledge  of  the 
forts,  which  would  have  amply  sufficed  for  the  warfare  of  the 
ancient  Britons ;  and  moreover,  he  was  one  of  those  led  astray 
by  Bryant's  crotchets  as  to  "  High  places,"  &c.  What  appears 
most  probable  is,  that  the  place  was  both  earn  and  fort;  that 
the  strength  of  the  place,  and  the  convenience  of  stones,  sug- 
gested the  surrounding  the  narrow  area  of  the  central  sepul- 
chre with  walls,  intended  for  refuge  and  defence.  As  to  the 
circular  buildings,  which  seem  to  have  puzzled  these  antiqua- 
ries, it  is  strange  that  they  appear  to  have  overlooked  the 
accounts  which  serve  best  to  explain  them.  Strabo  says  that 
"  the  houses  of  the  Britons  were  round,  with  a  high  pointed 
covering ;  "  Caesar  says  that  they  were  only  lighted  by  the  door ; 
in  the  Antonine  Column  they  are  represented  as  circular,  with 
an  arched  entrance,  single  or  double.  They  were  always  small, 
and  seem  to  have  contained  but  a  single  room.  These  circular 
buildings  were  not,  therefore,  necessarily  Druidical  cells,  as 


340  HAROLD 

has  been  supposed ;  nor  perhaps  actual  towers,  as  contended 
for  by  Sir  John  Wynne ;  but  habitations,  after  the  usual 
fashion  of  British  houses,  for  the  inmates  or  garrison  of  the 
enclosure.  Taking  into  account  the  tradition  of  the  spot  men- 
tioned by  Sir  John  Wynne,  and  other  traditions  still  existing, 
which  mark,  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood,  the  scenes  of 
legendary  battles,  it  is  hoped  that  the  reader  will  accept  the 
description  in  the  text  as  suggesting,  amidst  conflicting  au- 
thorities, the  most  probable  supposition  of  the  nature  and  char- 
acter of  these  very  interesting  remains  in  the  eleventh  century,1 
and  during  the  most  memorable  invasion  of  Wales  (under 
Harold),  which  occurred  between  the  time  of  Geraint,  or  Ar- 
thur, and  that  of  Henry  II. 

NOTE  (M),  PAGE  306. 
The  Idol  Bel 

Mons.  Johanneau  considers  that  Bel,  or  Belinus,  is  derived 
from  the  Greek,  a  surname  of  Apollo,  and  means  the  archer; 
from  Belos,  a  dart  or  arrow.2 

I  own  I  think  this  among  the  spurious  conceits  of  the  learned, 
suggested  by  the  vague  affinities  of  name.  But  it  is  quite  as 
likely,  (if  there  be  anything  in  the  conjecture,)  that  the  Celt 
taught  the  Greek,  as  that  the  Greek  taught  the  Celt. 

There  are  some  very  interesting  questions,  however,  for 
scholars  to  discuss:  viz.  ist,  When  did  the  Celts  first  intro- 
duce idols?  2d,  Can  we  believe  the  classical  authorities  that 
assure  us  that  the  Druids  originally  admitted  no  idol  wor- 
ship? If  so,  we  find  the  chief  idols  of  the  Druids  cited  by 
Lucan ;  and  they  therefore  acquired  them  long  before  Lucan's 
time.  From  whom  would  they  acquire  them?  Not  from  the 
Romans;  for  the  Roman  gods  are  not  the  least  similar  to  the 
Celtic,,  when  the  last  are  fairly  examined.  Nor  from  the  Teu- 
tons, from  whose  deities  those  of  the  Celt  equally  differ.  Have 
we  not  given  too  much  faith  to  the  classic  writers,  who  assert 

1  The  ruins  still  extant  are  much  diminished  since  the  time 
even  of  Pownall  or  Pennant ;    and  must  be  indeed  inconsid- 
erable, compared  with  the  buildings  or  walls  which  existed  at 
the  date  of  my  tale. 

2  Johann.  ap.  Acad.  Celt.  torn.  iii.  p.  151. 


HAROLD  341 

the  original  simplicity  of  the  Druid  worship?  And  will  not 
their  popular  idols  be  found  to  be  as  ancient  as  the  remotest 
traces  of  the  Celtic  existence?  Would  not  the  Cimmerii  have 
transported  them  from  the  period  of  their  first  traditional 
immigration  from  the  East?  and  is  not  their  Bel  identical  with 
the  Babylonian  deity? 


